


Survivors

by RedZipBoots



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 09:33:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29822916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedZipBoots/pseuds/RedZipBoots
Summary: After a gruesome find Heyes and Curry discover the are not the only ones who are looking for a new life.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

Two long, blonde braids trailed out behind her as she ran — ran like the wind which whistled loudly in her ears, blocking out the sounds she didn't want to hear. 

_Don't look back. Just run. Run to warn Mamma._

_She would be cooking supper, too busy to look outside. She wouldn't see them coming._

_Not far now. Almost home._

Suddenly, she felt the ground behind her begin to vibrate and something thudded into her back. She shrieked in pain but didn't fall; only stumbled a few steps. Gasping for breath she ran on, desperate to reach the house. 

Almost within reach of her mother's vegetable garden she was hit again. This time she fell. 

A horse halted.

One shallow breath later and her blue eyes stared lifelessly at the blade glinting in the sunshine.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Two horsemen rode side by side, their shadows thrown long before them by the rising sun at their backs. The trail they were following stretched across the prairie, far into the distance. All around them tall grasses whispered, swaying back and forth like waves on an ocean of green and gold driven by a breeze neither man could feel.

One of the riders leaned forward and with a gloved hand skimmed the tops of the seed heads before they brushed against the rim of his boot. He smiled but did not express his joy to his companion. He didn't want to break the spell just yet.

The sun rose ever higher in the sky and with the promise of another hot day the grass grew still and silent. A hawk soared overhead seeking an easy quarry before gliding away to find a more bountiful spot.

"That sky's so doggone blue it hurts your eyes to look at it," Kid Curry announced, squinting at his partner who oddly hadn't uttered a word since their dawn departure from Riverdale.

"Mmmm."

"Are you alright? You've been real quiet all mornin'."

Hannibal Heyes smiled dreamily and leaned on his saddle horn. "Just thinking."

"'Bout what?"

Unaccustomed to giving voice to thoughts about the past Hannibal Heyes hesitated. After a long pause he replied, "Oh, being out here on the prairie. It kinda reminds me of the time Pa took me with him to Cottonwood Falls. I'd never seen anything grow as tall as that grass — 'cept corn, of course. Couldha got lost in it, I reckon." He smiled again. "I sat up front beside Pa. He even let me take the reins for a spell. That old wagon sure was rickety. I spent most of the time wondering if it would hold together long enough to get us there and back."

"How old were you?"

"Couldn't have been more than seven, I guess."

"Why was you goin' to Cottonwood Falls?"

With a shake of his head Heyes gave the Kid a sideways glance. "I'm darned if I can recall. Just remember the grass."

Curry smiled and said nothing more. He would let his cousin continue enjoying the moment. Heyes in a mood like this was a rarity and it was even rarer for him to bring up a memory like that. For the most part, their childhood was a time both men deemed best forgotten.

The morning drifted by, as did the miles, and the grass became shorter. It was a little after noon and Kid Curry was about to suggest that they stopped to have a bite to eat when, beyond a gentle rise, he spotted a wisp of smoke drifting up through the still air. Accustomed to travelling the back roads he was also familiar with the kind of hospitality remote homesteads often offered, so he thought now would be a good time to break the silence.

"Look! Must be a farm." He pointed at the wisps of grey. "Should we stop and see if we can get some fresh water for the horses? Maybe even a cup of coffee for ourselves?" he added, persuasively.

Heyes' brow creased a little as he considered their circumstances. 

Yet another posse had been on their trail for the best part of a week. They had been spotted in Sioux Falls, a town they had never been to before, but Heyes had suspected something was amiss before anyone could arrest them and they had ridden out of there fast. Since crossing the Red River there had been no sign of their pursuers and nobody in Riverdale appeared to have been alerted to expect them, so he felt it was safe to assume that they had given up and disbanded. He and the Kid had ridden through the Dakota Territory a couple of times, but they had never ventured this far north, so the possibility of someone out here in the middle of nowhere recognising them was unlikely. And besides, the thought of fresh coffee certainly was a tantalising one. 

"Sure. Why not? You never know, there may be some freshly baked cookies too."

Curry grinned. He liked the sound of that.

As they rode through open country toward the small wooden farmhouse they were a little surprised not to see anybody out working in the surrounding fields, or in the adjacent farmyard. 

"Looks quiet," remarked Heyes, speculatively.

"Yeah, maybe a little too quiet," agreed Curry. "No kids, no dogs. Don't hear no chickens either, d' you?"

"Nope."

"You still think we should go in?"

"I think it would be wise to be cautious."

They pulled to a halt at the fence bordering the farmyard. Curry's hand edged toward his gun as he called out, "Anybody home?"

There was no answer, not even an unfriendly one.

Nudging their mounts into a slow walk they entered the silent yard. As they neared the well, the buzzing of flies caught Heyes' attention. He pointed. "That's why you can't hear any dogs," he said, dismounting to take a closer look at the lifeless brown mongrel. 

"Dead?" asked Curry.

"That gaping wound in its side would've done it, sure 'nough."

"But what...?”

Heyes had noticed something sticking out from under the unfortunate animal's body. Shooing the excited flies away from his face, he bent down and picked it up. It was a long, banded feather.

"Indians!" Curry drew his Colt and turned his sorrel on the spot, checking for any sign that they might still be around. 

"A lance could have made a wound like that," speculated Heyes and, figuring an additional fifteen bullets might come in useful he pulled his fully loaded rifle from the saddle scabbard. 

His eyes still carefully scanning their surroundings Curry slowly dismounted then, treading as silently as possible, the two men edged their way toward the house and flattened their backs against the wooden wall. After exchanging a glance with his partner in which they silently counted to three, Kid Curry launched his foot at the partly open door. It flew back with a crash and they burst into the main room.

Before them lay total devastation. Every piece of furniture was either broken into pieces or overturned. Cupboards had been opened and the contents strewn all over the floor, shelves had been pulled off the wall and the objects on them shattered or ripped apart. The stove was still warm, accounting for the faint trail of smoke they had seen.

"Watch the door," said Curry. 

Heyes obligingly angled his rifle back the way they had come while the Kid used the tip of his gun barrel to ease open the door to an adjacent room. Warily he stepped inside.

In reality he couldn't have been gone longer than half a minute, but not having heard anything Heyes started to become concerned. He was about to call out when his partner emerged, quickly elbowing him out of the way and lurching out into the yard. 

Heyes lowered his rifle. "You okay?" 

Curry turned his back, his reply a dismissive wave of his hand.

Puzzled and with more than a little trepidation Heyes ventured into the room to see what had affected his partner so badly. He immediately wished he hadn't.

Everywhere he looked there was blood; some in congealing pools, some sprayed up the walls and already dried by the warm morning air. In one corner of the room was a girl, slumped on the floor, a long red gash stretching all the way from the side of her neck to her waist. Her clothes were ripped and blood covered her face, the cause of which being the absence of her scalp. Heyes batted away more flies as he turned away only to see a woman who he presumed to be the girl's mother sprawled on the floor between two large iron frame beds. Her fate was no less gruesome, her throat having been cut and her almost naked body horribly mutilated. Sickened, Heyes averted his gaze. He did not wish to dwell on the horrors she had no doubt endured before the end.

Not imagining for one moment that this scene could get any worse he found himself following the direction of the woman's lifeless eyes and outstretched hand. A moment of morbid curiosity made him look closer and he instantly felt what little colour still remained in his face drain away. Under the bed was the body of a tiny baby.

Struggling to remember to breathe Heyes stepped outside. At the exact same moment the Kid emerged from behind the cabin. 

"Tell me you didn't go in there," Curry rasped, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Heyes fought the urge to join him in losing the contents of his stomach. He swallowed hard tasting the bile which had risen in his throat. Words eluded him so he merely nodded and walked slowly to where they had abandoned their horses. Here he unhooked the canteen which hung on his saddle horn, took a mouthful of water and spat it out. He then tried swallowing a few sips before handing the canteen to the Kid who did the same.

"I've seen some terrible things in my time, Kid, but that beats all."

"Not for me, it don't," Curry stated, grimly.

Heyes knew exactly what his cousin meant and he squeezed his eyes shut fighting the images in his mind's eye that the Kid's words had evoked. Even after twenty years, the sight of their slaughtered families was still freakishly vivid. His hand gripped his cousin's shoulder — the only gesture of solace he could manage. Hannibal Heyes was reputed to have a silver tongue, but every word of comfort in his vocabulary had been used so many times since that terrible day that they felt worn out, threadbare, useless. With the passage of time he hoped he would have amassed some new ones, but if he had, none came to mind right now. All he could say was, "You're right, Kid. It don't." 

Now that the urgency to ensure no Indians remained in the immediate vicinity had passed, they took their time tending to their horses.

Eventually, Curry looked at his partner and asked somewhat reluctantly, "I suppose we should give them a good Christian burial, huh?"

"It would be the right thing to do. We can't leave them like that, it wouldn't be decent."

"That's what I figured you'd say. Alright, let's get it over with."

Having steeled themselves to face the shocking sight again they dragged the blood-spattered sheets from the beds, wrapping the girl in one and the woman together with the baby in another.

"I'll go look in the barn for a spade," said Heyes. "Why don't you find us a good spot to dig?"

Curry headed for an area which looked as if the earth had been tilled recently. While he waited for Heyes he found himself squinting uncomfortably in the bright sunlight so he tipped his hat lower over his eyes. It was then that he saw something blue at the edge of the wheat field. 

Heyes stepped out of the barn in time to see his cousin sprinting away from the vegetable garden toward the fields. Dropping the two spades he had found he snatched up his rifle and ran after him.

"What is it?" he called.

"Another body." Curry pointed to the little girl lying on the ground with two arrows in her back and her blonde scalp missing. 

"Shit!" Heyes rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Looks like she was running for the house." He indicated the path trampled through the wheat field. "You know, it's just occurred to me that we haven't found any men, or boys. I suppose we should check the fields first so we'll know how many graves to dig."

The Kid didn't answer. He hadn't been listening. While his partner was talking he had knelt down beside the girl and carefully turned her over onto her back. Unshed tears from years gone by prickled at Heyes' eyes as he watched him straighten her blue dress before scooping the small lifeless body into his arms and walk slowly back toward the house.


	2. Chapter 2

_Well, this sure wasn't how I saw my day working out when I woke up this morning,_ Heyes thought bitterly as he placed the rock he held in his hand on top of the pile neatly covering the grave. Ironically, whoever had been tilling new ground for the vegetable patch had painstakingly pulled each rock from the soil and placed them to one side in a convenient pile. It hadn't taken them long to come to the same conclusion — that digging separate graves would be very time consuming, not to mention hard work, and that a family grave would do equally as well. Digging his knuckles into the small of his back he eased out his aching muscles. 

A couple of hours ago and with his heart full of dread, he had followed a path of flattened wheat all the way to two more blood-soaked bodies, who he assumed to be the man of the house and his teenage son. From the injuries to their hands and arms it was evident that they had made a valiant effort to defend themselves, but the Indians would have been skilled fighters and probably too numerous to defeat. 

That had increased the tally to six. The very same number he and the Kid had buried all those years ago. Heyes was so deep in thought that his partner's appearance at his side startled him.

"This is the best I could do," the Kid said, and began pushing six small crosses made from strips of wood lashed together with string securely between the rocks.

"It's more than they'd have got if we hadn't been riding this way."

"Do you think we should say a prayer or somethin'?"

Weary shoulders drooped. Heyes knew all too well that when it came to speaking, Curry's _we_ really meant _you_. Reading his cousin's body language correctly Curry turned to flattery. "You're real good at that kinda thing, Heyes."

Doing his best to recollect some of the words he had heard spoken at gravesides over the years, Heyes respectfully removed his hat, bowed his head and closed his eyes.

"Heavenly Father, we don't know much about this family 'cept that they were hard working and striving to make a good life for themselves out here on the prairie. They didn't have a whole lot of worldly goods, but they had what mattered most — each other. Now that they've been sent to Glory by the murderous actions of ungodly savages, we ask that you take them into your care, Lord, so that they may find peace and everlasting rest." Heyes was about to replace his hat when he remembered something he felt may be important. He quickly cleared his throat. "Uh, Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. A-men." Opening one eye he squinted questioningly at the Kid. "How's that?"

With an affirmative nod Curry pulled his hat from where it hung on the spade handle and they walked away from the grave. "So, what are we gonna do now?" he asked as they reached the farmhouse. 

"Don't know about you Kid, but I need a drink." Heyes went straight to his saddlebags and took out a bottle of whiskey. "Want some?"

"You have to ask?"

Pulling the cork Heyes handed the bottle to his cousin who wasted no time in putting it to his lips to take a couple of large mouthfuls. When it was Heyes' turn he took a much longer swallow. 

"Y' know, I figure if we start now we could be back in Riverdale by supper time," said Curry as they passed the bottle back and forth. 

"Riverdale!" Heyes almost choked. "We're going to Bloomfield." 

"Yeah, but I don't wanna ride any further west with a bunch of blood-thirsty Indians on the loose. Do you?"

"How do you know they went west?"

"I don't, but if we go back to the river we crossed a few days ago, we could follow it south through Nebraska—"

"Posse could be camped out right there on the border waiting for us to do just that," Heyes pointed out.

Kid Curry sighed at his cousin's logic. "What are you sayin', Heyes? That our only choice is between a bloody end like these poor folk, or twenty years rotting in the Wyoming Territorial Prison?"

"That about sums it up.”

"Sheesh! Maybe we should sleep on it. I say we clean up that kitchen a little and spend the night here. Those Indians have done what they wanted — they ain't coming back anytime soon." 

Heyes nodded slowly. "I guess if we keep the lamp turned down low and don't light a fire..."

Supper that evening took the form of anything in their saddle bags that didn't require cooking, namely strips of jerky and a few pieces of hard tack, but neither man minded; they weren't particularly hungry knowing what had taken place only a few feet away from where they now sat. Drawing on his considerable experience in robbing banks in the middle of the night, Heyes suggested that they should sit on the floor; that way the lamp would be less visible from outside.

As he set his bedroll out on the newly swept floor Heyes caught sight of some scraps of paper under the dresser and pulled them out.

"Whatcha got there?" Kid had already made himself as comfortable as possible on his blankets.

"It's scripture," Heyes thumbed through the pages. "Probably part of that Bible we found the cover for. Hey, look at this Kid, somebody's written on this page." 

"What they write?"

Heyes leaned toward the dim light to better see the unrefined lettering. "Looks like stuff about the family. Their name was Halsted. Amos and Lydia Halsted. And right here it lists all the children and the year they were born. The young fella I found in the field, his name was Felix and he'd be around..." A bit of mental arithmetic. "...fourteen. Eve would be the girl we found in there." With a slight shudder he indicated the tightly closed door of the blood-spattered room. "Samuel was eleven—"

"Samuel?" 

"Wait, there's another date here. Looks like he died a couple of years back. Then there's Gabriel, he'd be about seven, and Abigail who was five." A quick glance at the Kid confirmed that he knew she must have been the little girl he had carried from the field. "The baby's name was Isaac. He was born three months ago."

"Apart from the baby, we only buried one boy, Heyes. When did Gabriel die?"

Brown eyes scrutinized the page again. "He didn't. Not according to this, anyway. You searched the barn, didn't you?"

"Yep. Didn't find anyone out there."

For a few seconds their eyes locked knowing each had the same thought. 

Curry groaned. "Think they took him?" 

Heyes hated to confirm their suspicions but replied with a grimace. "Probably."

"Aaaw, no. From what I've heard they don't treat white kids so good."

"I've heard the same stories. Let's hope they're not true...for his sake."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Hannibal Heyes' eyes opened to the click of a revolver being cocked in the darkness. 

"You heard it too, huh?" he whispered needlessly as Curry flung back his blanket and tiptoed across the creaky floorboards to peer through the window. Starlight barely illuminated the yard, but it was enough to enable him to see the two hobbled horses dozing by the well.

"Horses are okay. Can't see anythin' else out there."

A faint scratching sound made both men freeze.

Heyes took a chance and struck a match. At the Kid's frown he shrugged, "I want to be able to see who's going to murder me!" He touched the flame to the wick of the lamp. 

Another sound.

"That ain't outside." Curry confirmed what they were both thinking. "Sounds to me like it's comin' from in there." He nodded toward the closed door. 

Holding the flickering lamp firmly in his hand Heyes made his way over to the door and listened. All seemed quiet, so he gripped the knob and eased the door open. With the Kid close behind him he stepped into the room. 

After the heat of the day the heady, metallic smell of blood was overpowering and to make matters worse, the minute the light appeared a multitude of flies, torpid in the darkness, became active once more. Batting them away with his free hand Heyes held the lamp above his head, thus making the rafters in the roof more clearly defined and drawing their attention to a narrow boarded area which stretched into darkness under the eaves. 

Knowing that he would need both hands to get up there and take a look, but not wishing to part with his Colt, Curry tucked the weapon into the back of his pants and clambered up onto a chest of drawers. He stood there for a moment, using a crudely constructed pine closet to steady himself while he looked around. Making a choice between more light or drawing his gun again he decided on the former. He didn't want to miss anything. 

"Hand me that lamp, will ya?"

The shadows moved eerily as Curry took the lamp. He hoped this wouldn't reveal anything too unpleasant. Suddenly, two large, round eyes stared out from the dark crawl space under the eaves.

"Jeez!" 

"What is it?" asked Heyes, anxiously craning his neck to see what had startled his partner.

"I figure it's the boy we was missing." 

"Dead?"

"Nope."

"How'd he get up there?"

"Same way as me, I guess." With a reassuring smile Curry beckoned. "You can come out now, son."

The eyes blinked at him but their owner stayed where he was.

"We won't hurt ya."

When there was still no movement Curry handed the lamp back to Heyes and maneuvered himself astride one of the rafters. With his shoulders hunched over in the confined space he shuffled forward. 

"I know you're scared but you can't stay up here. C'mon out." A scraping sound indicated that the child might be moving and out of the darkness emerged a small trembling hand. "That's it," Curry encouraged. "Don't be afraid, now." 

Slowly the boy squeezed out of his hiding place and inched forward on the rafter. Curry sized him up. 

"He ain't big. I'll dangle him under the beam so you can catch him." 

As soon as the child was close enough he seized him under the armpits, pulled him clear of the rafter, and dropped him the short distance into Heyes' waiting arms. Without a sound, the boy clamped his arms around Heyes' neck and buried his face into his shoulder.

Rather than linger any longer than necessary in that room Kid Curry chose the quick route down and swung himself off the rafter, landing on the stained floorboards with a thud. 

Once back in the main room Heyes knelt down and, after a lot of cajoling, managed to detach the child from around his neck. The boy stared wide-eyed at the destruction of what had once been his home. When his eyes returned to Heyes the former outlaw found himself staring back. Now that he could see him clearly he was startled by how much the child resembled his partner as a boy — small for his age and a little scrawny, with large blue eyes and a mop of corn-coloured curls. A lifetime of practice at burying memories and the emotions that went with them enabled Heyes to quickly get a grip. 

"I'm Joshua and he's my friend, Thaddeus," he said, wondering how many times he may have heard them calling each other by their real names. "What's your name?" he asked, although he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

When there was no reply Curry crouched down and offered a canteen. "Here, you must be thirsty." 

The boy regarded him warily. 

"Don't trust us, huh? Okay then, if we both drink some, will you? We wouldn't poison ourselves, now would we?" Curry took a swig then handed the canteen to Heyes who made a show of swallowing a large mouthful.

"Now you." The two men exchanged a satisfied smile when the boy took the proffered canteen and drank a few mouthfuls.

"Hungry?" asked Curry. 

A faint shake of the head. 

"That's okay, maybe in the mornin'. What we're gonna do now is bed down on the floor. You can sleep right here, between Joshua and me. You'll be real safe. Okay?"

They rearranged their bedrolls and were relieved to see the boy settle down without a fuss. 

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

At first light both Heyes and Curry stirred and upon opening their eyes immediately glanced toward the small, curled up figure of the sleeping child. So as not to wake him they eased back their blankets, picked up their boots and quietly let themselves out into the yard. Neither man spoke until they reached the well.

"Y' know, I had a horrible thought last night as I was falling asleep," the Kid said as he dropped the bucket down into the depths.

"What?"

"If those Indians had set fire to the place, that kid could've been trapped up there in the roof and—."

Heyes held up his hand. He didn't want to think about it. "Let's just be grateful they didn't, huh?"

"Somethin' else I'm grateful for..," Curry said as he fastened off the rope and unhooked the filled bucket. "...is that he didn't try and run out on us last night." He splashed cold water over his face and neck.

Busily pulling on his boots, Heyes snorted. "You'd have woken up if he'd so much as twitched in his sleep! Anyway, where would he go? His folks are right here."

"Talkin' of places to go..." 

"Well, I don't think riding back to the Red River is such a good idea. If we get caught and end up in jail, where does the kid go? No, we've gotta keep heading west. The desk clerk at the hotel in Riverdale said Bloomfield is a fair-sized town. There will be someone there who can take care of him, you'll see."

"I guess you're right."

With a knowing look Heyes slapped the Kid on the shoulder. "Ain't I always?"

They had almost finished saddling up when the front door creaked and a small, sleepy-eyed figure appeared. Curry, who was loosely buckling up his cinch looked over his saddle and grinned.

"Hey there! Thought you was gonna sleep all day!" 

Heyes placed a half-full bucket of water at the boy's feet. "There you go. Wash your face. That'll wake you up." The boy did as he was instructed, sluicing his face and drinking a few cupped handfuls of water.

"You want something to eat?"

The boy just stared at him.

"I'll take that as a _no_. Okay. Now we, that's the three of us, have to get going real soon but there's something you need to do first." 

Hannibal Heyes looked at his cousin then glanced toward the large pile of rocks which marked the newly dug grave. Before they left the farm he knew that the painful subject of the loss of the boy's family would have to be addressed. It was something he had been dreading. His silver tongue could cope with most things but he had serious doubts whether it could deal with this. The Kid was so much better with children than him. 

Kid Curry knew what was going through Heyes' mind and although he was reluctant to relive any more of his own past he didn't want to leave everything to his partner. Not this time. Many years ago he hadn't given it a thought, but now he was an adult he realized it hadn't been fair. Heyes had only been a child himself, but still had not hesitated in assuming responsibility for his eight year old, orphaned cousin. No, it was his turn to step up. 

"Come along with me, son. I need to show you somethin’,” he said. 

The boy hesitated. 

"It's real important," the Kid insisted.

Heyes watched the child fall into step beside his partner. With a sigh he followed on behind. When they reached the grave Curry turned the boy to face him and crouched down to look him in the eye.

"You remember what happened yesterday, dontcha? The reason you was hiding up in the roof?"

Two large blue eyes at last connected with the Kid's own and the boy nodded. Curry felt a sense of relief; he wouldn't have had a clue how to explain this. He took a breath and continued, "This is where Joshua and me.... We put your folks...uh... to rest. All together. See the little crosses? There's one for each of 'em."

When neither tears nor any other form of emotion was forthcoming Curry looked up at his partner and shrugged helplessly. 

Heyes pushed his hat to the back of his head. They needed to make sure he understood. Finally, he pulled the torn Bible page from his pocket. 

"Those two crosses there, that's one each for your Ma and Pa. There's one here for Felix, one for Eve, another for Abigail, and that little one there is for Isaac." The boy's eyes carefully followed Heyes' finger as he pointed to each cross in turn. 

"Do you understand what we're saying?" asked Curry. 

Without warning, the boy turned and sprinted back toward the house. Both men had the same thought; he was heading for the bedroom. They followed at speed. 

"Best not go in there, son." Curry firmly removed the small hand from the door knob. As he slowly turned away, the look on the boy’s face was heart-wrenching so Heyes quickly pressed the piece of paper into the grieving child's hand. 

"This belonged to your Ma and Pa. It has their names and all your brothers and sisters names written on it. It belongs to you now." 

After watching him tuck it securely into his shirt he added, "There's somebody called Gabriel on that list, that's you isn't it?" When a nod eventually came in reply, Heyes grinned. "Good. Now we know what to call you."


	3. Chapter 3

Gabriel's arms reached as far as they could around Kid Curry's waist, each hand tightly grasping a handful of the pink plainsman shirt while he bounced around behind the cantle of the saddle. Silently, he had stared behind him for a long time as they rode out until his neck ached and the farmhouse was nothing more than a speck on the horizon.

Like the boy, both Curry and Heyes had remained lost in their own thoughts. The past twenty-four hours had resurrected too many unwelcome memories. Memories that they thought were securely buried but which it now appeared they were fated to revisit — maybe for as long as the boy was with them.

As the morning progressed the trail began to follow the natural undulations of the land and the tall prairie grass returned, spreading out from the trail in all directions.

Suddenly, Curry raised his hand and pointed. "What d' you think that is?" he said, while straining his eyes toward the horizon trying to see who or what was throwing up such a large cloud of dust. 

Heyes leaned forward on his saddle horn. "Can't say for sure."

"Couldn't be the..." Not wanting the boy to hear the word, Curry mouthed 'posse', "...could it?"

"Not unless they got turned around real bad. Maybe it's that band of renegade Indians," Heyes speculated, not giving a thought to the Kid's young passenger.

Before either man could react the boy slid from Kid's horse and ran off into the tall grass. Assuming that he was running away from the potential threat of being caught and killed by Indians, Heyes cursed under his breath and turned the buckskin. 

"Gabriel, come back here!" he demanded. "Gabe!" 

In an attempt to track the small figure the Kid stood up in his stirrups and groaned, "Aaaww, where's he goin'?"

"Keep a close watch on that dust cloud, Kid," yelled Heyes as he slapped his long reins on his mount's rump and galloped off in hot pursuit.

Chosen with the sole purpose of outrunning posses in mind, both their horses were fast and extremely manoeuvrable, but as Heyes headed off into the long grass he still offered up a silent prayer that the buckskin wouldn't step into a gopher hole and break a leg. He didn't welcome the idea of coming across a hidden rock either. 

It was not long before he could hear the rustling of the grass and the boy's rapid breathing. For a small kid he sure could run fast.

"Gabe, stop!" 

Gabriel kept on running so Heyes dug in his spurs, overtaking him in a matter of seconds. Still the boy didn't stop, he just switched directions. Heyes reined the buckskin around and ignoring the sting of the tall grass hitting him in the face he leaned as far sideways in the saddle as he could safely go, extended his right hand, and deftly snagged the fleeing child. Thankfully Gabriel was small for his age, a little like the Kid had been until puberty set in and he began to grow what seemed like an inch a day. Heyes adjusted his balance to cope with the additional weight, righted himself, and plonked Gabriel securely in his lap just behind the saddle horn. 

"Sit still," he grumbled at the wriggling child. "You'll have us both under the doggone horse if you keep that up. Where did you think you were going, anyway?"

At the silent reply Heyes rolled his eyes and followed the flattened grass back to the Kid.

"Any change?"

Curry shook his head. "Uh-uh. But whoever they are, they appear to be headin' the same way as us."

"You want me to get the field glasses outta my saddlebags?"

"Nah, as long as we can still see that cloud and it don't get any closer, we don't need to worry." Curry took the opportunity to gulp a mouthful of water from his canteen. "You wanna stop here? We didn't have any breakfast and my insides sure are complainin'."

Brushing a number of errant dark locks away from his eyes Heyes pulled his hat from where it now dangled and replaced it firmly on his head. "We may only have enough jerky for a piece or two each, but we could stop and rest the horses. That is, if this young fella don't go hightailing it off into the unknown again." 

"Yeah, about that..." Curry looked straight into Gabriel's fear-filled eyes. "Don't go doin' that again, son," he said, sternly. "We don't know for sure those are Indians, but if they are, the safest place for you is with us. Not out there on your own, y' hear. We've both got handguns and rifles, and we're darn good with 'em."

Assuming that the mention of Indians was the most likely reason Gabriel had felt the urge to run, Heyes changed the subject back to food. "You must be hungry, Gabe, almost as hungry as Thaddeus here. Why, to my reckoning you can't have eaten since breakfast yesterday. Am I right?" He looked down at the blond head in front of him and was encouraged to see a small nod. 

Curry saw it too and smiled. "Then it's decided. We'll stop right here."

By late afternoon there was still no sign of their destination. A frown deepening between his eyebrows Heyes reined his mount to a halt and pulled the map he was using from his shirt pocket. Having squinted in the direction of the setting sun and checked his pocket watch he then did a quick mental calculation.

"I can't understand it," he said peering at the map again. "According to this, Bloomfield shouldn't be more'n a mile away, right there in front of us."

"Let me take a look." Curry reached over and Heyes cheerfully surrendered the map, watching with interest as his partner went through a similar process, even turning the map around a couple of times for good measure. "And your expert opinion is?" he asked, flippantly.

"It ain't there," Curry stated emphatically as he handed it back. 

Heyes feigned surprise. "You don't say!"

"I sure hope you didn't tip the desk clerk anythin' for drawing that, 'cause it ain't worth a plugged nickel."

"'Course not." Heyes tried not to look shifty as he crumpled the map into a ball and tossed it over his shoulder. "Now what?"

As their eyes met, both men knew exactly what the other was thinking but neither wanted to say it. The last thing they wanted to do was camp out here in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of bloodthirsty hostiles on the loose.

"I say we keep movin'," volunteered Curry. "The sky's clear so it won't get dark for a good few hours yet. Maybe we'll get lucky and come across another town."

Heyes gave a derisive snort.

"You got a better idea?"

"Nope. Let's go."

One of the drawbacks to traveling in the increasing gloom was that the dust cloud, which they had been watching closely for most of the day, was no longer visible. Feeling increasingly nervous they pressed on, hoping whoever it was had already made camp for the night and they would pass them by at a safe distance.

One by one the stars began to come out and a new moon lit the trail. Heyes, who still had Gabriel on the saddle in front of him, noticed that the boy was feeling heavier.

"Kid," he whispered. "Can you see if he's asleep?"

Curry bent forward. "Looks like it. He must be tuckered out, poor kid."

"We'll have to stop soon. He may be small, but even scrawny can become heavy and my legs are starting to go numb."

Curry's grin shone in the moonlight.

They had ridden little more than a mile or two further when the sound of voices began to drift toward them and a light breeze brought the enticing smell of roasting meat their way. Pausing momentarily they listened intently, trying to pick out a word or two. A loud voice barked out what sounded a lot like an order.

"Cavalry?" queried Curry.

"It just may be," confirmed Heyes, optimistically. 

Ordinarily, the two former outlaws would make a point of steering clear of the military, judging them to be in the same category as lawmen, posses and bounty hunters, but tonight they had little choice but to make an exception. 

Proceeding a little slower they both could feel the tension in their shoulders increase as the glow of a campfire came into view revealing a number of men and horses. As expected there was the sound of a rifle being cocked and a young, fresh-faced trooper stepped out of the darkness.

"Halt! That's far enough."

Both men raised their hands in the air. Hannibal Heyes smiled genially. "Evenin'. We sure are glad to see you fellas."

"Real glad," reiterated Curry.

His rifle still levelled in their direction the private called over his shoulder. "Got a couple of intruders here, Sergeant."

Silhouetted against the campfire Sergeant Doyle responded to the call. An army man through and through, he was now in his late forties with a thickening waistline and thinning hair.

"What's your business here?" he demanded; his voice still betraying his Irish heritage.

"We're our way to Bloomfield, but got turned around," explained Heyes. 

"You're not wrong there. Bloomfield's more'n twenty miles south of here." 

"We're all out of supplies too. Figured we'd be in town by now partaking of a nice juicy steak. If you could spare some food we—"

While only half listening to what Heyes was saying the sergeant's attention switched to the boy asleep on his lap. Noting a resemblance to the other rider he asked, "This lad your son?"

Taken aback by the sergeant's sudden question the Kid stammered, "Uh, n-no he's..."

"Why's he with you then?"

"We found him in what remained of his folks' homestead," answered Heyes. "It was raided by a hunting party. He's the only survivor."

"Indians? You sure o' that?"

"No doubt about it; everyone had been scalped." Heyes shuddered inwardly as he pictured the scene. "We found this young fella hiding in the rafters, poor kid."

Sergeant Doyle cast a seasoned eye over the two men, noting their tied down holsters and the rifles carried within easy reach on their saddles. Had they been anywhere other than Indian country this might have given him cause for concern, but he would expect little else from anyone with a scrap of horse sense traveling through these parts. 

"My friend and I have a mind to keep our scalps, Sergeant, and we'd feel a whole lot safer if we could bunk down by your fire." Kid Curry glanced toward the camp and, right on cue, his empty belly gave a loud growl. "Guess we're ...uh...kinda hungry too," he admitted, sheepishly.

The sergeant looked them over once more, then said, "Alright, alright. I'll go have a word with the Lieutenant. Hold 'em here, Pell."

Heyes and Curry exchanged a hopeful look. 

Making sure not to make any sudden moves in case Private Pell was a little nervous they stayed in their saddles and waited expectantly for several minutes until Sergeant Doyle returned. 

"You can come on in. Lucky for you Pell here is a pretty good shot and bagged a passel of sage hens this afternoon so we've plenty of meat to share. Go ahead and lower that rifle, Private."

With a grin, Kid Curry passed his reins to his partner and jumped from his saddle. "We really appreciate this," he said, immediately raising his arms for Heyes to pass Gabriel down to him. He expected the movement to wake the sleeping child, but the blond head just lolled against his shoulder. 

Dismounting a little more slowly Heyes extended his hand to the sergeant. "I'm Joshua Smith and this is my partner, Thaddeus Jones," he said while trying to shake out his slightly numb thighs. "That young fella is Gabriel."

"You can leave those horses in the picket line," advised the sergeant. "But you need to be quick about it if you want to eat."

Upon entering the camp the former outlaws found themselves automatically counting the men they could see: eleven troopers and, judging by the insignia on his shoulders, one officer. Experience necessitated the need to know how many guns might be aimed their way should someone happen to recognize them.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Kid Curry had almost finished his meal by the time his partner joined him at the campfire. Dumping their saddlebags and bedrolls on the ground Heyes accepted the plate he was handed, viewing the ration of a couple of pieces of sage hen, together with a stale biscuit and a tin cup of hot coffee in which to soften it, with a resigned mental shrug. 

He had only just swallowed his first mouthful when Gabriel stirred. He sat up and looked around him, wide-eyed.

"Don't worry about these men, son," Heyes quietly reassured him. "You're safe here. They're cavalry." He offered a piece of the slightly scorched meat. "You want some supper?" 

Still sleepy, Gabriel moved closer to the Kid, fighting to stay awake in unfamiliar company; it was not long before he lost the battle.

"I thought he might have eaten something," Heyes remarked to his partner. "He must be real hungry by now."

"Sage hen sure makes good eatin', don't it?" Curry remarked as he licked the grease from his fingers. 

"Not all the time," corrected Heyes. "Remember that one you shot when we were holed up the Nolan ranch waiting for Lom?"

" _I shot?_ Uh-uh. _You_ shot it. Well, you said you did. I figure you took aim just before it dropped dead from old age. Then again, couldha been the way it was cooked," the Kid suggested, wryly.

Heyes smiled at the memory. They had been riding hard all day and while the Kid fed and watered the exhausted horses he had erected a makeshift spit in the farmhouse fireplace and lit a fire. Unfortunately, instead of watching the meat as it cooked he had succumbed to his own weariness and fallen asleep, burning the hen black on one side and drying out the meat so much that by the time Lom finally arrived their teeth and jaws were aching from chewing.

"Good evening. Jones, is it?" 

The voice jolted Heyes from his musing and he twisted round to see a tall, slim, young man standing behind them. "I'm Smith." Heyes gave the man a friendly smile. 

"I'm Lieutenant Glover. I hear you encountered some hostiles."

"We didn't encounter them exactly, only cleared up the bodies they left behind." 

"Do you think you could show me where this happened?" The lieutenant held up a folded piece of paper which he proceeded to spread out on the ground.

Heyes rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he considered it. "By my reckoning the farmhouse was about here." He tapped the map. "Wouldn't you say, Thaddeus?"

Although he was by no means full, now that he had put some warm food in his stomach the Kid's eyelids were starting to close, and with so little sleep the previous night as well a long ride today, he knew it would not be long before sleep claimed him. "Looks about right," he said, through a yaw. "Well, I think I'm gonna get me some sleep. What time do you want us on watch, Lieutenant?"

Lieutenant Glover re-folded the map. "That won't be necessary, Mister Jones. My men will patrol the camp." 

Relieved that he wouldn't have to get up again until dawn, Curry gently positioned Gabriel on his bedroll before settling down and pulling a blanket over them both. In less than a minute he began to snore softly.

Although he knew that the Kid was tired enough not to be woken by his voice Heyes stood and moved away before speaking again. "Is there any more coffee, Lieutenant?"

"Help yourself." The lieutenant indicated a second, smaller campfire. 

While they strolled over to it Heyes said, "I was surprised to find Indian trouble in these parts. I thought the Government had made peace with the Arikara."

"We thought so too," the lieutenant replied. "A treaty was signed, but neither side really trusts the other so the situation is still very much on a knife edge."

Heyes poured them both some coffee. "Have you any idea how many braves there are in this band?"

"From what we've been told, about forty or fifty. They began by stealing a few horses here and there, maybe the odd cow, but it has become considerably more brutal over the last few weeks. Now it seems this particular band of hostiles are hell bent on killing anyone who has dared to settle on what they claim is Arikara land. That is why Major Appleby — he's the commanding officer at Fort Russell — despatched myself along with this troop. Our purpose is to track down and neutralize these renegades."

"Are you close on their trail?" asked Heyes. "I'm asking because, now we've missed Bloomfield by some way, we may head south to Deadwood and we'd sure hate to run into any trouble on the way. From what we've seen they're a real bloodthirsty bunch."

"I don't know how much experience you and your friend have had with Indians, but out here on the prairie the Arikara can disappear one minute and then reappear when you're least expecting them. One thing I didn't count on though, was them having gotten as far as Riverdale." The young lieutenant tried to hide the disquiet in his eyes but wasn't quite quick enough and Heyes spotted it. "All the reports we've had say the attacks are extremely violent. Like some kind of blood frenzy. Was what you saw anything like that?" he asked.

Not wanting to sugar-coat his response, but still not wishing to give voice to the horror he had witnessed, Heyes affirmed, "Every bit, I should say."

"Sergeant Doyle said the boy saw it all. Did he tell you what happened?"

"I guess it must be the shock of losing his family, Lieutenant, 'cause he hasn't uttered a word since we found him."

"Well, one of our jobs is to protect civilians, so you're more than welcome to ride along with us tomorrow. We're heading a little further south before we return to the fort. We can provide some protection until you're near the border."

"Thank you. Appreciate it." Heyes suppressed a yawn and blinked his tired eyes. "Well, I'll think I’ll be saying goodnight to you now. Didn't get a whole lot of sleep last night."

"I understand. Goodnight, Mister Smith."

Heyes settled down on his tarp and blanket with his saddlebags as a pillow. While he had been speaking with the lieutenant it appeared that the Kid had rolled over and pulled most of the blanket away from Gabriel, so Heyes used his spare to cover the boy. The night was not exactly cold but it wasn't particularly warm either and he was concerned that with his empty stomach the boy may feel a chill. The former outlaws were used to sleeping outside in all weathers, besides which they could always use their overcoats if additional warmth or protection were required.

Despite his fatigue Heyes could not rest easy without taking a long, but discreet, look at the men around the campfire. Much like other army troops he had come across they appeared to be a mixed bunch. Three were young, approaching their twenties, newly enlisted — like Pell, he guessed — and were busy cleaning their rifles and polishing the dusty brass buttons on their dark blue uniforms. Four, including the sergeant, definitely had the look of the seasoned campaigner about them seeming relaxed enough to be engaged in a good natured game of cards. The man serving as cook was about the same age as himself and the remaining three had to be on guard duty somewhere outside the camp. 

Satisfied that nobody appeared to be paying them any undue attention, Heyes finally allowed himself to close his eyes and drift off to sleep.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

The air felt cool and fresh on his face when he opened his eyes to look at the sky. Up above, the stars were still visible, but turning his head to the east, Hannibal Heyes could see them fading into the grey light of a new day. Running his hands through his hair he sat up and looked over at his partner. 

At some point during the night Gabriel had sat up crying out in terror and waking both he and the Kid. Heyes had lost count how often a young Jedediah Curry had disturbed him with his nightmares and was therefore not surprised at how adept the Kid had been in soothing the agitated child. After that, Gabriel had edged even closer to the gunman, whether for warmth or comfort it was impossible to say, but Heyes still found it amusing to see the boy curled into the Kid's side. 

Chuckling inwardly he regarded the two blond tousled heads, one appearing only slightly more angelic than the other while they slept. Kid Curry's youthful appearance and relaxed manner easily fooled most people into thinking he was nothing but a kind-hearted, soft-headed, country boy but Heyes knew different. He had witnessed many times how the Kid's countenance could change completely the instant a gun was in his hand. The soft lines of his face would harden and his blue eyes, which radiated a warmth whenever he smiled, would become grey and cold. Heyes would challenge anyone to find anything angelic about his partner then.

As he considered what may lay ahead for Gabriel now that he was an orphan Heyes was certain if they could find him a home, preferably one with a loving family, there was a pretty good chance of him staying on the right side of the law. Something both he and the Kid had failed spectacularly to do.

From the moment they ran away from the Valparaiso School for Waywards, stealing food and picking pockets had been relatively easy, not to mention a necessity. In their late teens, petty theft and pulling short cons proving a little more complex and more lucrative. However, it was as adults that they had come to class themselves as bona fide outlaws. The almost inevitable progression to much bigger endeavours — robbing trains and banks — making them wanted men worth ten thousand dollars apiece. A veritable fortune for anyone lucky enough to turn them in, dead or alive.

In the still morning air the sound of an army bugle could be heard over quite some distance and, as they didn't want to alert any hostiles to their presence, it had been decided that the troopers should be awakened by the shove of a booted foot rather than the usual call of reveille. Heyes was also grateful for this decision. If startled from a deep sleep it was very likely that Kid Curry would give a good demonstration of his fast draw, something Heyes wanted to avoid among all these soldiers. 

Knowing that even in his sleep the Kid would recognize his touch Heyes reached across and shook his shoulder.

"Uh, how long have you been awake?" asked the sleepy gunman who, before Heyes could reply, added, "Don't answer that. At least an hour, right?" Out of doors the former outlaw leader rarely slept beyond first light.

Heyes smiled. "We'd better get moving if we're going to get any breakfast," he advised. "Before you know it they'll be calling 'boots and saddles'." Then, leaning toward his cousin he lowered his voice to say, "Listen, Kid, I talked with Lieutenant Glover last night and he's happy for us to ride along for a spell. They're heading south so I figure we could cut us a trail into South Dakota. Try and find someone in Deadwood who will take Gabe."

Curry frowned dubiously. "Miners won't have time for a kid."

"I know, but it's somewhere to start," Heyes replied with a shrug.

While his partner sauntered off to the picket line the Kid sat up and began pulling on his boots. The vigorous tugging eventually woke Gabriel who sat bolt upright rubbing his eyes and staring apprehensively at the unfamiliar faces around him.

Deciding to ignore the look on the boy's face, Curry said cheerfully, "Mornin’! Joshua's gone to saddle up. You can help me pack up the bedrolls."

By the time Heyes returned breakfast was underway and, much to his relief, Gabriel eating at last; spooning oatmeal into his hungry mouth and doing a pretty good job of keeping pace with the Kid. The cook held out a similar bowl to Heyes, but he waved it aside. The watery slop he had been forced to consume for breakfast back at the Home had put him off oatmeal for life. Instead, he chose to accept a steaming cup of coffee and half a stale biscuit.

The meal was a hurried affair, and in no time at all the camp was cleared and everyone was saddled up with Gabe once more securely installed behind Curry's saddle. 

Lieutenant Glover indicated that they should ride in the centre of the troop's formation, deeming it the safest position for civilians. It was not exactly the most comfortable place for a couple of former outlaws to be but, as Each hour passed, they noticed that the experience seemed to be helping Gabriel. Whether it was a case of safety in numbers, or the combination of the melodic jingle of bridles and the sound of over a dozen horses clip-clopping along, neither of them could tell, but it did appear that he had stopped staring around anxiously and was beginning to Appear a bit more lively. 

The day passed without incident and despite the considerable distance travelled, there was still no sign of any hostiles. Late in the afternoon a couple of men were despatched to scout the area ahead for somewhere suitable to make camp for the night. In no time at all they returned at a gallop with the welcome news that they had found a burned-out farmstead a mile or so along the trail which had a well that was still viable. 

When, at last, they reached the farm, it was plain to see that very little of the barn or other outbuildings remained. However, despite being badly scorched the farmhouse walls, up to about knee height, were still standing. Only two structures remained intact — a blackened chimney stack and a stone clad well. 

Preempting the order to dismount, Heyes jumped from his saddle and, dropping his reins to the ground so that his mount would stand still, walked a short distance into what was once the farmyard. Crouching down, he inspected the numerous marks in the dirt. Although clear that the farm buildings had burned down some time ago, judging by the hoof prints overlapping each other, the place appeared to have been occupied in the last twenty-four hours.

"Lieutenant," he called. "This could be where those hostiles spent last night. There were a number of horses here recently and only one or two of 'em were shod."

At this news the Kid felt Gabriel's arms tighten round him. 

"It's alright," he soothed, over his shoulder. "No need to go gettin' spooked again. They're long gone." Then, turning his attention back to Heyes, who was now over at the far edge of the farmyard, he called, "Any idea which direction they went, Joshua?" 

"Looks like most of them went north-west, but some headed due west too," advised the one time 'Champeen Tracker of all Southern Utah' — a title which the Kid good naturedly, but constantly, disputed. 

The lieutenant slapped his hand against his thigh in frustration. "Damnation! There's not enough light left to follow them now. Sergeant, get the men fed and these animals watered," he ordered. "We'll have to pick up the trail at daybreak." 

Kid Curry swung his leg over his saddle horn and slid to the ground. "How many do you figure?" he murmured when Heyes returned to pick up his reins.

"Forty. Maybe a lot more," came the uneasy reply.

Although they tried to keep their voices low Gabriel had obviously overheard because the minute Curry lifted him down from the horse he moved closer to the low slung holster.

Determined to keep the boy's mind on something other than Indians Curry pointed to a section of the charred farmhouse which had not yet been claimed by any of the troop. "That looks like a good spot." he said, placing their two saddlebags over each of Gabriel's shoulders and plonking the bedrolls from behind Heyes' saddle into his arms. "You take these and start gettin' our camp set up. Joshua and me will go picket our horses with the others. You be sure and stay right there 'til we get back, okay?"

Walking carefully so he wouldn't stumble and drop anything Gabriel set off.

"Did you see that? Any mention of Indians and that kid sticks himself to me like taffy," Curry said as he watched him go. "He's still real scared." 

"He's not the only one," replied Heyes. "We're outnumbered more than two to one."

At the mention of the odds Curry routinely drew his revolver and checked the load. "I wonder if he'll ever be right again," he murmured, almost to himself, but Heyes still heard him.

"Hard to say. He's got the same look in his eyes that you had at that age, Kid."

"What sorta look is that?"

"Haunted."


	4. Chapter 4

It was dark, much darker than he preferred, but a lamp would give away his presence too easily. With a feather-like touch he placed his fingers on the dial and pressed his ear to the door of the safe. Concentrating all his senses on the job in hand, he listened. A faint smile crossed his lips as he felt something. It was faint but, when he turned the dial a little more, there it was again, stronger this time. He frowned. That didn't usually happen. What he was expecting was the satisfying click of a tumbler dropping into place not a vibration, a strange low rumble that seemed to be getting louder, the sound of...

"Horses!" exclaimed Heyes, sitting up and grabbing his rifle.

"Posse?" Curry rasped, his throat dry from sleep.

"I'm thinking Indians. Lots of 'em." 

"But how...?"

"No time to explain. They ain't far away." 

Scrambling to his feet Heyes called to those on watch to expect company. As he made his way quickly over to Lieutenant Glover, Sergeant Doyle was already busy issuing orders and it would be no time at all before the trained soldiers were ready to repel an attack.

"Mister Smith, what makes you so sure we're going to be attacked?" the lieutenant looked about him. "I don't see any hostiles and I can't hear any horses."

"They'll be here soon, Lieutenant. I got a real keen ear, comes in kinda useful in my line of work."

"And what might that be?"

Heyes had no time to think up an answer as the low rumble of distant hooves could now be heard. 

Glancing from time to time over the charred planks of wood which would be their only protection, Curry thumbed the cylinder of his Colt, inspecting the load and adding a sixth bullet, before returning it to its holster. He then pulled a box of shells from his saddlebags and quickly checked that the magazine of his rifle was also full. Eventually he realized Gabriel was watching him, his blue eyes wide with fear and his arms clasping his knees as close to his chest as was physically possible.

"It's gonna be alright, son. You just keep your head down. We'll see 'em off, right quick." 

Pressing the rifle stock firmly into his shoulder Curry hoped his words sounded reassuring because, in truth, he didn't know whether even he believed them. It was not difficult to understand why the boy was so scared. Knowing what this particular group of hostiles could do to a person sent an uncomfortable shiver down his spine and made his heart beat faster than any other foe he had ever encountered.

As he stared down the barrel of the rifle Curry called to mind their only other contact with the native people of the West. A few months back, down in Arizona, they had been chased by a small band of Chiricahua. Heyes' horse was shot out from under him resulting in their capture, but good fortune had seen them freed, a little shaken, but unharmed. They had never faced a situation quite like this one and he tried not to let his imagination dwell on what might befall them if they happened to be captured.

Hannibal Heyes dropped to the ground beside his cousin, shouldered his own rifle, and waited. 

To the east, on a rise just out of rifle range but immediately in front of them, Indians began to appear. The horses, their necks and flanks painted with coloured lines and circles, pranced excitedly on the spot while their riders raised war lances decorated with feathers and long fringes of rawhide, high above their heads. Some even carried what appeared to be round shields. For what seemed like an eternity they remained on the ridge, their shrill, blood-curdling, war cries filling the morning air. 

"What they waitin' for?" murmured Curry. 

He did not have long to wait for the answer to this question because, the moment the first rays of the sun broke over the horizon at their backs they charged, flat-out, toward the battle-ready troop.

"Wait, for my order," Lieutenant Glover instructed his men, all of whom were hunkered down behind wood barricades of varying heights. 

"Should we fire over their heads, Lieutenant?" asked the Sergeant.

Heyes snorted at the Kid's laconic, "Not if you wanna keep your scalps."

"No," answered Lieutenant Glover. "That would only waste ammunition. Aim true and....FIRE!

A thin cloud of acrid grey smoke drifted through the air as bullets sped toward their targets.

When it came to gunplay Hannibal Heyes could most definitely hold his own. Although not quite in the same class as his cousin, he had on occasion, been known to wound someone on purpose, but to his knowledge he had never actually killed anyone. All the time he led the Devil's Hole Gang through their many successful robberies he had, personally, instructed each man that no bank or train employee, or member of the public, was to be injured during a heist. This lack of violence was a matter of public record and something Heyes was very proud of. 

By contrast, Kid Curry's life as a gunman usually meant reacting instantly to a threat. In the majority of cases he chose to either disarm or wound, but there had been times when, in order to preserve either his or Heyes' life, he'd had to make the regrettable decision to shoot to kill. 

Today, both men were very clear in their minds that they were fighting for their lives and therefore had every intention of doing whatever was necessary to still be in the land of the living at the end of the day. 

The hostiles their rifles were aimed at today numbered around forty (Heyes' estimate had been correct). A few were armed with rifles, but most were equipped with lances or bows and arrows. They wore their hair in long braids and adorned with feathers. Two wore full war bonnets. Defiant of the bullets and shrieking like banshees, they galloped fearlessly by, swiftly encircling the farmhouse ruins. A few fell at the initial volley, mostly due to their horses stopping a bullet. Those who were not killed or badly injured as a result either mounted a loose animal or leaped up behind a fellow brave and once again joined the attack.

Despite the choking dust churned up by many hooves Heyes and Curry stayed as low as possible behind their piece of wall. Not appearing to be at all distracted by the bullets whizzing around him Curry took up a rhythm with his rifle. As soon as a brave rode within range he followed him with his sights and took his shot the second the rising sun was not shining directly in his eyes. He wasn't intentionally keeping count but was certain he had killed two, possibly three, and wounded a couple more. Not quite his usual degree of accuracy, but he would be the first to admit that a rifle was not his firearm of choice, and although it held almost three times as many bullets as his Colt, it seemed he had only just started firing when he cycled the lever on an empty magazine. 

Curry ducked below the barricade.

"Do you know how to load this?" he yelled to Gabriel over the din. The terrified boy had his hands clasped over his ears but the Kid was sure he had understood and, interpreting a small movement as a nod of affirmation, he dropped the Winchester on the bedroll alongside the open box of bullets. Drawing his revolver he continued firing, timing the shots between those of his partner in order to maximize their effect. 

The Colt's relatively small supply of ammunition was soon spent but his expertise with a gun did not stop there as, laying on his back, he rapidly ejected all six casings and slotted six new bullets into the cylinder without even a hint of a fumble. So intent was he on the job in hand that it wasn't until he had finished that he saw Gabe holding out the Winchester. Curry grabbed it with one hand while holstering the Colt with the other. Deftly flipping the rifle stock up to his shoulder he recommenced firing.

Hannibal Heyes picked off his third rider then flinched as a bullet hit the scorched wood he was sheltering behind sending splinters, large and small, in all directions. One of the larger ones drew a red line through the skin on the side of his face. Cursing a blue streak, but grateful it had missed his eye he ignored the trickle of blood running down his cheek and continued firing until he was out of bullets. 

Accustomed to having the responsibility for a group of men, when he ducked down behind the barricade Heyes couldn't help but check the status of those around him. The troop had successfully brought down a number of braves, but already two of the soldiers had been hit. One had taken a bullet to his shoulder; another had an arrow through his arm. This small reduction in firepower still made a difference to their defences and, realizing this, the Indians became bolder, riding ever closer to the line of fire. 

Now that he was facing the farmyard he could also see the horses in the picket line. Most were restless, stamping and whinnying, some prancing and attempting to rear; all reacting to the noise of so many guns and the squeals of distress from the Indians' injured mounts. Fleetingly the thought crossed his mind as to what they would do if the animals were injured or broke their tethers and bolted, but he didn't have time to dwell on it, he needed to reload. 

"Give the kid... your rifle," yelled Curry between shots. 

Gratefully, Heyes handed over the Winchester, but Gabriel had only pushed four bullets into the magazine when a war lance hurtled over their heads and impaled itself in the back of Private Pell's thigh. The young man's agonized scream was all it took to make the boy drop the rifle, cover his head with his arms and curl up in a ball.

Heyes growled to himself and swiftly took over reloading. With another man down there was no time to comfort the distressed boy.

Being the only one shooting from that position Curry had to fire more rapidly than before and once again found himself out of ammunition. However, before he could begin to reload, the remaining Indians turned around, rode out of range and disappeared over the rise. 

In the eerie silence that followed Heyes shook his head trying to rid himself of the high-pitched whine in his ears from the firearms going off all around him.

"You okay, Kid?" he asked, tension tightening his chest and making him sound out of breath.

"Wonderful. You?"

Heyes turned to show his partner his wound. He tested the spot with his finger and winced. "It might be bleeding like it's no more 'n a scratch, but it stings like all-get-out."

The Kid grinned. "Let me take a look." He pulled a bandana from his pocket and dabbed at the blood. "It needs cleanin' up, checkin' for splinters," he announced. "You want me to do it?"

"Nah, it'll keep. Might not be long before they're back." 

"How may bullets are left in that box?" queried Curry.

Brown eyes made a quick assessment. "Only one full load, I'd say." 

"Damn! If you ain't got another box, we're in trouble." 

While Heyes rummaged in both sides of his saddlebags for the unopened box of rifle bullets he was certain he had, Curry turned his attention to Gabriel. Trying to make light of the danger they were in, he nudged him playfully with his foot.

"Hey! You can come out now. They're gone and we're okay. See?"

Gabriel's blue eyes peered out from between his arms.

"You keep on loading these rifles real quick and we're gonna stay that way." Curry picked up his Winchester. "C'mon. Sit yourself up and make sure this magazine is good and full while I check my gun."

With a triumphant "ha-ha!" Heyes held up the elusive box of bullets and both men found themselves breathing easier as taut shoulder and arm muscles began to relax. So grateful were they for the break in hostilities they were certainly not prepared for their foe to employ any guerrilla tactics. 

Despite giving the appearance of being dead, from the moment the Arikara warrior had caught a bullet and tumbled from his horse, he had been crawling forward on his belly, inch by inch, toward their position. 

Kid Curry's Colt .45 was two bullets away from a full reload when, out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed movement and again found himself thankful for the lightning-fast reactions with which he had been blessed. Spitting out a curse when the gun was knocked from his hand and was sent skittering away in the dirt, he still had the wherewithal to dodge the vicious-looking blade grasped in the Indian's hand. Unfortunately, Heyes was not so lucky and immediately found himself grappling with the warrior.

Curry snatched up the Winchester and readied the rifle. It didn't seem to matter where he stood, he was still too close to attempt a shot. If he did, the bullet would likely go straight through the Indian and injure Heyes as well. And if he attempted to buffalo him with the rifle stock he had no idea where the blade would end up, not to mention the chance he might inadvertently stave in Heyes' head instead. 

Fearing for his partner's life and frustrated that there appeared to be little he could do to help preserve it, he watched dry mouthed as the two rolled over and over on the parched earth, each frantically trying to take control of the knife. Through the enveloping cloud of dust Curry could see that the warrior's bare chest and buckskin trousers bore witness to the fact that he had already lost a lot of blood, but despite this it appeared he was beginning to get the upper hand — the vicious-looking blade coming nearer and nearer to Heyes' throat. Tossing the rifle, he lunged for his Colt. He needed to end this. 

As luck would have it, the very second he cocked the revolver the Indian wrenched his knife-wielding hand free from Heyes' grip and with a triumphant cry raised it in the air as he prepared to deliver a mortal wound. Curry squeezed the trigger. The bullet struck the knife, wrenching it from the warrior's hand and propelling it through the air to land out of sight on the other side the barricade. His second shot immediately followed, hitting the warrior in the head and killing him instantly.

Heyes heard the shots and confident that his partner would not have missed, rolled to one side in order to avoid the dead body falling on him. Amidst the settling dust he lay on his back taking deep breaths and listening to the whistles and ooowhee's from the troopers in the immediate vicinity; a sound which often accompanied any public demonstration of his partner's skill. Curry ignored the compliments and instead turned to prod the Indian's body dispassionately with his foot. 

Heyes sat up and tried his best at a reproachful glare. 

"For the fastest gun in the West you sure took your time!" 

"Fine. Next time I won't be so particular which of you I shoot," Curry countered as he offered his hand to his cousin.

A groan issued from Heyes’ parched and dusty throat as he allowed the Kid to pull him to his feet. He flexed his back and smiled. "Thanks partner, but let's hope there won't be a next time."


	5. Chapter 5

The army started to clear the camp, breakfast having been disregarded in their need to move on. 

A gunshot made Heyes and Curry turn and draw, but they needn't have been alarmed; the Indians had not returned. The shot had been fired by one of the soldiers who had been given the unpleasant task of inspecting the fallen, putting injured horses out of their misery as well as a few wounded hostiles.

"You fellas," Sergeant Doyle addressed them while they checked their own mounts for injuries. "The Lieutenant has asked me to inform you that due to the casualties we have sustained we are returning to Fort Russell. You are welcome to ride along with us if you wish. In fact, knowin' those hostiles are still in the area it may be in your best interest to do just that."

Heyes glanced thoughtfully at his partner. "Can you give us a minute to talk it over?" 

"Don't take too long, Mister Smith. We will be ridin' out directly."

Leaving Gabriel holding the reins the two former outlaws took a short walk out beyond the scorched chimney stack. 

"Gabe's a natural with them horses," remarked Curry, leaning his elbows on a short stretch of rickety railings, his eyes alert and watchful over the endless prairie.

Heyes nodded, thoughtfully. "That's good. It could make it easier to find him a new home. A ranch or even a livery might take him on for room and board. We'll get a better idea once we reach Deadwood."

"Yeah...'bout that..." 

"Jeez, Kid, you're not gonna say you want to go back to Riverdale _again_ are you!"

"No. I—"

With a hint of mischief, Heyes' eyes slid sideways toward his partner and he held up a gloved hand.  
"I know what you're gonna say, Kid," he said, almost failing to keep the threatening smile from his lips. "And the answer is 'no'. We can't keep him." 

"What! I don't wanna—" Curry protested before lowering his voice to say testily, _"Hell, Heyes, he ain't a dog!"_

Innocently, Heyes tilted his head. "Glad to hear it. If there's one thing we don't need while we're on the dodge is a kid. Or a dog."

In an attempt to subdue his rising temper Kid Curry slowly filled his lungs. Recent events, not to mention the presence of an armed cavalry unit, had him more than a little keyed up. So keyed up that he had failed to hear the laughter in his partner's voice. 

Sighing out the air, Curry said, "I was gonna say, 'Why don't we ride with the troop, back to the fort?'"

"That's north, Kid. Deadwood is south."

"Those doggone Indians are probably headed north," Curry pointed out with a fervour Heyes hadn't heard in a long while. "I don't know about you, Heyes, but I'd sure like another crack at those devils for what they did to Gabe's family."

And there it was. All day yesterday Heyes had been sure that his cousin had been holding onto something. There had been a certain set to his jaw, a rigidity in his shoulders that he couldn't fail to notice in his usually relaxed partner.

"Are you sure it's Gabe's family you want to avenge?" he asked, candidly. "Or your own?"

A frown creased Curry's brow. He was not completely sure of the answer to that question but, if pressed on the matter, he would probably say both.

"Ever since you was small," Heyes continued, "you've had a hankering to hunt down those raiders who murdered our folks. Make them pay for what they did. Do you really think you'll get the same satisfaction by killing half a band of Arikara? Because _I sure don't_. And besides, Gabriel is still real scared. He won't get anything good out of another encounter with Indians." 

When there was no rebuttal from his cousin Heyes inwardly breathed a sigh of relief, and confident that he had successfully changed his partner's mind, he slapped him on the shoulder. "C'mon, Kid. Let's go tell them we'll be fine on our own from here. But, we'd better be quick, looks like they're almost ready to leave."

Walking back to the picket line they could see the small figure of Gabriel standing between the sorrel and the buckskin anxiously glancing around at the soldiers as they mounted up. Curry raised an enquiring eyebrow at the boy and grinned. "Hey Gabe! I bet you've never seen an honest to gosh army fort, have ya? Wanna see one?"

Despite the boy still having the haunted look Heyes had described, he nodded eagerly.

"Looks like you're gonna have the pleasure of our company for a few more days, Sergeant!" called the gunman, and ignoring Heyes' wide-eyed, open-mouthed stare, he swung himself up into his saddle.

While he settled Gabriel behind him Curry did his best to avoid the dark looks his partner was throwing his way. Looks which would have made another man back down in an instant. 

It had taken him less than half the distance from the fence back to the troop to make his choice, and although he knew that at some point in the future Heyes would find a way to make him pay for it — if there was one thing the former outlaw leader hated, it was being outfoxed, especially when he was certain he had an argument won — Kid Curry still believed they should help hunt down the hostiles. He had some unfinished business with that band of Arikara.

Progress was slow but steady, however by early afternoon the three casualties were showing more than a little sign of fatigue. This was especially so for Private Pell. The motion of his horse was making his leg wound bleed continuously and even though he clutched a great handful of mane with both hands, he appeared to be struggling to remain in the saddle. 

Thankfully, it was not long before the welcome gurgle of a creek reached their ears. The slow-moving, shallow water was easily forded and a camp quickly set up in the shade of a stand of cottonwoods.

The morning's ride had not improved Heyes' mood. Still seething, he sat away from everyone else and stared broodingly at the rippling creek. So accustomed was he to the Kid following his lead Heyes found that on the rare occasions when he didn't, it struck him like a blow in the face. The last time was still clear in his memory....

_It was the day they had held up the special gold train out of Cripple Creek, Colorado._

__

__

_As usual, Heyes had spent weeks drawing up plans, working everything out to the nth degree, but this time he had miscalculated exactly how much gold would be in the express car. Upon opening each strongbox, his delight in finding them all to be full had waned somewhat with the realisation that this much gold would be incredibly heavy — too heavy even for eight outlaws to carry all the way back to the hideout. Thinking fast he had concluded that, in order to take it all, they would have to remove as many bars as they could over as few trips as possible, stash them somewhere not too far away, then come back and retrieve the whole cache with either a wagon or pack mules at a later date._

__

__

_While Kid Curry, Hank and Kyle kept their guns trained on the train's crew, Heyes and the other gang members loaded the gunny sacks they had brought with them with as many of the gold bars as they could carry and rode off into the surrounding woods. It had taken much longer than he had figured in which to find an acceptable hiding place and by the time they returned to the train almost twenty minutes had gone by._

__

__

_Not content with the gold they had already removed Heyes directed them to start loading up again and was shocked when the Kid stated that they had held the train there long enough and insisted, in front of all the men, that they should cut their losses and leave._

__

__

_Despite their admiration for Heyes' elaborate schemes, every member of the Devil's Hole Gang was probably more in awe of Kid Curry's ability with a gun, and so they sided with the gunman._

__

__

_For several days after their return to Devil's Hole Heyes had been completely unapproachable, so furious was he that his partner hadn't given the revised plan his total support. During this period the Kid vacated his comfortable bed in the leader's cabin and spent his time in the bunkhouse with the men._

__

__

_Eventually, having deemed that Heyes had brooded for long enough, Curry had risen early and partaken of a hearty breakfast. Then, minus his revolver he had walked over to the cabin and let himself in. The gang had loitered outside until both leaders appeared in the doorway, a little bruised, but their differences settled._

__

__

Dragging his thoughts back to the present Heyes suddenly became aware of a small figure standing quietly at his shoulder, a steaming cup of coffee in his outstretched hand. Wondering how long Gabriel had been there, he smiled briefly before his eyes were drawn beyond to where Curry reclined against a tree. 

Heyes took the cup. "So, are you looking forward to seeing the fort?" he asked, a little stiffly.

The boy nodded.

"There's nothing much for a kid to do there, you know. Nobody to play with. Just a load of soldiers _doing jobs they're paid to do_ ," he said, loudly, making sure his words reached the Kid's ears. 

"Hey, Thaddeus! The Sergeant says Pell's gonna ride double with someone else from now on," he continued. "That means Gabe can ride Pell's horse, so long as one of us leads it." Heyes had put this suggestion to the sergeant with the reasoning that should they need to move quickly Gabriel would be safer on a horse of his own other than bouncing around behind one of their saddles.

Kid Curry's acknowledgement was a simple nod, so Heyes tilted his black hat low over his eyes and sipped his coffee.

Ignorant of the virtual chasm that appeared to have suddenly opened up between the two men Gabriel proceeded to amuse himself by poking a stick at whatever he could find in the water at the creek edge. After watching him for a while Curry got to his feet, his keen eyes searching the stony bank. Once he found what he was looking for he picked up a flat pebble.

"You ever played rock skipping?" he asked. 

The boy stared at the pebble in Curry's hand and shook his head. 

"No? Well then, I'll show you how it's done. First you need a good supply of rocks, just like this one..."

Gabriel was a fast learner and was just beginning to challenge the Kid's number of skips when Sergeant Doyle emerged from the main camp. "Looks like we're gonna make an early stop, right here," he said. "Pell ain't doing too well. Him and the other two wounded need to rest and here's as good a place as any. Lieutenant Glover says, if you want, you boys can go on ahead. He will send a short despatch with you to give to the Major." 

The sergeant glanced at Heyes who pushed his hat away from his eyes, gave an exaggerated shrug, and said, "Oh, don't look at me. That's up to my partner." 

Curry knew this magnanimous gesture was loaded with Heyes' own brand of sarcasm, but he chose to ignore it, answering, "Thanks anyway, Sergeant, but we'll stay with you fellas. Safer for the boy."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

The following dawn broke to an oppressive silence. 

Late the previous evening, in order to preserve what little blood still flowed in Pell's veins, an attempt had been made to apply a tighter tourniquet to his thigh. But the poor young soldier had cried out so loudly it was feared he would attract the unwanted attention of any Arikara in the area, so it was subsequently removed and replaced instead by a thicker bandage. This, plus almost half a bottle of whiskey had quietened the suffering man until he eventually passed out. Sadly, he was not to wake again.

Heyes and Curry couldn’t quite believe they were burying another body as they helped Sergeant Doyle and another trooper wrap Private Pell's body in a tarp while others, including Gabriel, scoured the surrounding area for rocks. Although Fort Russell was less than a day's ride it had been decided to bury him there, among the trees, rather than transport his body back to the fort for burial in some stark and unremarkable plot. Lieutenant Glover led a small service and each soldier had solemnly placed a final rock on top of those already covering the shallow grave.

The mood of the troop remained sombre as they broke camp and fortunately for the grieving soldiers several hours passed without any sighting of the raiding party. The troop had only just slowed from a lively trot to a walk when, out of nowhere, a disagreeable prickling sensation began to creep up the back of Heyes' neck. 

"I wonder if those Indians will attack while we're on the move," he said quietly, whether to himself or to the Kid he was not sure but the words were barely out of his mouth when a gust of wind brought with it the unmistakable sound of a large number of galloping horses.

"Ya just had to go and wonder, didn't ya?" griped Curry with a sour look as he tossed the leading rein of Gabriel's horse to the trooper on his left. "Stay there, Gabe," he instructed, as together the two former outlaws pulled their own mounts out of formation and heeled them into a lope.

They stopped at the top of a rise. From here they could see all the way to Fort Russell, its tall stockade unmistakable in the distance. But this wasn't what drew their attention. 

Down below, on the vast expanse of level ground, there was a large prairie schooner pulled by four mules which were probably moving faster than they had ever done in their lives. A large group of hostiles were some distance away, but it was obvious they were in hot pursuit.

Calmly, Kid Curry took his Colt from his holster and checked the load. Heyes barely paid him any mind — he was used to the Kid doing this several times a day as a matter of routine. He was about to remark that they had better inform the lieutenant of this development when, without warning, Curry stuck in his spurs and with a loud "Yah!" galloped off down the slope. 

Shocked, Heyes yelled, "Kid, wait! Don't— Aaww, dammit!" 

Seconds later Lieutenant Glover reined in beside him. "Where's he going?"

With an angry shake of his head Hannibal Heyes replied, "To get himself killed."


	6. Chapter 6

The desperate cry of his partner fell on deaf ears as Kid Curry spurred his horse into a break-neck run with the intention of intercepting the fleeing wagon. A fierce sense of outrage had outweighed any thought he may have had toward a sensible course of action and had propelled him down the slope to the grassland below without so much as a backward glance, nor any consideration for his own safety. The only thought in his head was to reach the wagon before the Indians. 

From the vantage point at the top of the rise he had managed to make out that the mules were being handled by a woman. Curry was impressed. Mules could be both stubborn and skittish in equal measure and therefore difficult to handle. A man sat in the seat next to her aiming a rifle at the following horde, no doubt waiting for the right moment to commence firing.

Curry knew he risked becoming a victim of the man's nervous trigger finger as he drew level with the wagon, but still he took the chance and hoping he could be heard, yelled, "Left! Wheel 'em left." At the woman's sharp, uncertain glance he indicated with his gun, "Fort Russell. That way."

Once he was sure that the wagon was indeed heading toward the fort he moved closer.

"Catch!" he shouted, pulling his rifle from the scabbard and tossing it to the man. "I'll shoot from inside." 

The man's mouth was too dry with fear to respond verbally, but he nodded his understanding and immediately dropped both rifles at his feet before leaning out to take hold of one of the sorrel's reins and secure her to the wagon. 

The increased sound of pursuing hooves and war cries confirmed that the Indians were almost upon them and the very instant arrows began to fly Curry twisted in his saddle and fired a couple of well-aimed shots with his revolver at two equally well-chosen targets. He then holstered his weapon so that he could grasp one of the bows beneath the canopy with his right hand. Kicking his feet free from the stirrups he swung himself out of his saddle and onto the box.

"Cavalry's not far behind," he said, landing somewhat precariously next to the man and reclaiming his rifle. Without pausing he pushed his way inside.

It was quite a challenge to keep his feet as the wagon bounced and rocked its way over the rough ground and he found himself praying that all four wheels would continue to remain intact. Dodging swinging pots and pans, and steadying himself on shifting trunks and boxes, he made his way to the rear. A series of loud cracks told him that the man had started shooting, but it was the sight of three children, a boy and two girls, clinging tightly to each other and their eyes wide with fear which held his attention away from the mayhem outside. 

"Stay down," he said, taking up his defensive position at the split in the rear of the canopy.

Peering through the gap he was a little alarmed to see just how close the hostiles now were, in fact he had not had time to get the barrel of his rifle in position before one made a daring leap for the back of the wagon. Not needing to aim, Curry shot him at point blank range before tucking the rifle snugly into his shoulder and picking off two more who he guessed were threatening the same move. He continued to fire, but because of the unpredictable rocking of the wagon few of his shots actually found their mark. The children cowered even lower as arrows tore indiscriminately through the surrounding canopy and sharp thwacks announced the arrival of bullets embedding themselves in the tailboard. 

It was not very long before Curry pulled the trigger only to hear a click announcing the unwelcome fact that the rifle's magazine was empty. Dropping it he quickly swapped to his revolver.

"Do you know where your Pa keeps his bullets?" he shouted at the children.

The boy nodded, but stayed exactly where he had been told to by this stern, resolute stranger. "Well, get some," the Kid yelled, more harshly then he intended. The child scrambled over to a strongbox, flipped up the catch and produced a box of bullets. Curry snatched them from him and began loading the rifle. 

It was then that the sound of shots from the front of the wagon ceased. Hoping that something hadn't happened to the man he said a little more kindly, "Go see why your Pa's stopped shootin'."

The boy hastened to the front while the Kid aimed another couple of shots from his revolver knowing that this would also make his Colt devoid of ammunition. 

"He's re-loadin'," the boy informed him.

Curry thrust his precious revolver, butt first, toward the child. "Can you load that?" 

"Yessir." 

"Don't drop her," he instructed, at the same time pushing six bullets out from his gun belt loops and adding them to the boy's outstretched hands. He didn't want to risk the balance he had painstakingly built into the revolver being undone any more than it may have been already, but he wanted to ensure the rifle was loaded first. 

The Kid's fingers expertly pushed bullets one after the other into the magazine of the Winchester. He had almost finished when he heard the woman scream. Stumbling to the front of the wagon he was confronted by the sight of the man, blood flowing freely down his arm, struggling to repel a tomahawk-wielding warrior while his wife tried desperately to keep the team moving. Without a second though Curry threw himself into the fray, making it his objective to become the sole focus of the warrior's attack and, having been successful in this regard, he unwittingly found himself pushed backward into the close confines of the wagon. 

At the sight of the wild-eyed, war-paint covered native the two little girls screamed in terror and clung ever more tightly to each other as Curry fought to get a grip on the man's arms and, more importantly, prevent the tomahawk from embedding itself in his head. As soon as he achieved a fast hold he brought his knee up and rolled onto his back in an attempt to throw the warrior out through the gap in the canopy and under the hooves of the trailing horses. The moment he heard the thud of the warrior hitting the rear of the wagon he knew that plan had gone awry, so he scrambled to his knees ready to take up the fight again. It was then that he felt the reassuring sensation of the smooth cherry wood handle of his Colt as it was thrust into his hand, and before he had time to draw another breath the warrior lay dead, a .45 slug having passed straight through his heart.

Firing a gun in the enclosed space may have resulted in an unpleasant ringing sensation in Curry's ears, but it didn't prevent him from detecting the welcome notes of a bugle sounding the charge. Silently he breathed a sigh of relief. The team of mules had kept up a surprisingly fast pace but they were tiring fast and, despite the woman's frantic urging, he was not surprised to feel the wagon beginning to slow. 

Peering through the following dust cloud he could just about make out the cavalry galloping toward the rear of the hostiles. He tried to pick out Heyes amid the pursuing soldiers but failed, mainly due to the man's liking for wearing an almost cavalry-like, dark blue shirt and black hat. 

While the troop closed the initial gap between themselves and the Indians, Hannibal Heyes had cast worried eyes around him, searching for any sign of his partner. That was until the bugle had sounded. After that, he was so caught up in the exhilaration of the charge that he no longer had time to look and anyway, the dust thrown up by numerous hooves was comparable to that of a cattle stampede; it stung his eyes making it difficult to see. With not even so much as a glimpse of his partner, he had started to assume the worst until several shots had come from the back of the wagon, hitting their intended targets with unerring accuracy. 

This extra firepower, together with the close proximity of the fort, were enough to make the Indians break off their attack. Major Glover did not give up so quickly, however, and lead the troop in hot pursuit for a mile or two in order to make sure they continued to head in the opposite direction.

Kid Curry watched them go. Feeling as if he could breath again he drew the back of his hand across his forehead combining sweat and dust into one long muddy streak. Holstering his Colt he made his way to the front of the wagon and cast worried eyes at the injured man's face which had turned a deadly shade of grey. 

"I'll take them lines for ya, ma'am," he announced. "He's hurt bad. That wound will need bandaging tight or he's gonna bleed out real quick." 

Before she could pass him the reins, the man passed out. It was only Curry's lightning reactions — snagging a good handful of shirt sleeve — which prevented him from pitching off the side of the wagon. When he emerged from manhandling him to a place where he couldn't injure himself further, the woman shoved the reins into his hands and disappeared into the interior of the wagon..

Suddenly weary, Curry slumped on the box seat and slowed the mules to a walk. 

"Is Pa gonna die?" the boy asked as he joined him.

Not wishing to look at another child's tear-stained face right now, nor give him false hope, the Kid kept his eyes fixed on the exhausted team. "Your Ma will take good care of him."

Suddenly there was the sound of pounding hooves and a horse and rider overtook them, speeding on toward the fort.

The boy looked around anxiously. "Are those devils after us again, mister?" 

"Nah, that fella's what the army call a galloper. He'll let the folks at Fort Russell know we're comin'."

They were less than a mile from the fort by the time the boy's mother reappeared, clutching the two little girls tightly to her as she squeezed them all onto the wooden seat.

"How's he doin'?" asked Curry, noting the fresh blood stains on her dress.

"He's still unconscious," she replied, "but I think I've managed to stop the bleeding, for now. I don't know how we can ever thank you, Mister...?"

"Jones, ma'am. Thaddeus Jones."

"Pleased to meet you Mister Jones. I'm Kathleen Nesbit. My husband's name is Ted. This here's Timothy and these two are Mabel and Flora."

Curry smiled. At least this family was still alive.


	7. Chapter 7

Hannibal Heyes nonchalantly swung his leg over the saddle horn and slid smoothly to the ground. Leaving his long reins dangling he strode over to where his partner was helping to unhitch the mules.

"Thaddeus."

At the sound of his partner's voice Kid Curry turned only to find himself staggering backward — a gloved fist having seemingly appeared out of nowhere to make contact with his jaw. He sat down abruptly on the ground, bruised and a little dizzy.

Heyes towered over him. "What the hell was that!" he yelled, his brown eyes blazing with a volatile mix of anger and distress. "Of all the stupid, idiotic, knuckle-headed...!"

Taken aback by his cousin's physical and verbal assaults Curry mumbled, "Jeez! A simple 'howdy' wouldha done." 

"You couldha gotten yourself killed!" 

"Well, I didn't. And I made it here without so much as a scratch. 'Cept now my jaw's real sore," Curry added, sullenly. 

Out of habit Heyes extended a helping hand and once the Kid was on his feet, he unexpectedly pulled him into a fierce bear hug. Even when he released him, he still gripped one of his arms tight enough to leave yet another bruise. 

"I don't want..." he swallowed hard in an attempt to control the emotions surging through him. Then, making sure nobody was within earshot, he leaned in and whispered hoarsely, "I ain't doing this on my own, Jed. The amnesty. Life as free men. None of it! Understand?" 

Curry rubbed at the knuckle imprint on his cheek. For the briefest of moments he considered swinging a punch of his own, but that was until he glimpsed the fear in his partner's eyes. Fear that Heyes thought he had hidden so well.

"Sure, Heyes. I get it," he conceded. "I guess I saw that wagon and... well, just the thought of another family being slaughtered..." He looked around, quickly surveying all the men and horses. "Hey, where's the kid?"

"Gabriel!" exclaimed Heyes scornfully, his anger threatening to resurface. "Didn't give him a thought back there on the ridge. Just rode off and—" 

"Now, wait a minute!" the Kid protested.

"In case you hadn't noticed, that kid's gotten himself real attached to you. It's gonna be hard enough saying goodbye when we find him a home, but how do you think he'd react if you'd ended up dead like his folks, huh?" 

Sergeant Doyle's loud voice interrupted the altercation. "What's going on here?" 

"Oh, just a small misunderstanding," replied Heyes, offhandedly, trying to find a smile but coming up short. "It won't happen again."

"You'd better see that it don't or you'll find yourselves in the guardhouse. Major Appleby don't tolerate fightin'."

Both men exchanged a concerned look. A jail was a jail, no matter what fancy name you gave it.

Lieutenant Glover joined the group. "Sergeant, please see to it that all these good people and their animals are duly accommodated."

"There's a man in the wagon," said the Kid. "He's cut up pretty bad."

"I'll see to it at once, Lieutenant." Sergeant Doyle snapped a sharp salute before barking an order at a young trooper. "You there, go fetch a stretcher."

"Riders approaching!" announced one of the soldiers on watch, high up on the stockade.

"Hostiles?" queried Lieutenant Glover.

"Looks like army riders, sir.

"Keep those gates closed until you're certain."

Several minutes later the gates swung open and in rode two troopers along with Gabriel and the two wounded men.

While Heyes offered them some assistance in dismounting, Curry pulled the boy down from his seat high up on Private Pell's horse. The minute he put him on the ground two small arms clamped themselves around his hips. Somewhat embarrassed at the boy's display of affection in front of so many men, the Kid cast a bemused look at Heyes who replied with his most annoying "told you so" expression. 

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

With an offhand "Sit where ya want" the young soldier who had accompanied three of the civilian visitors to the mess hall, disappeared into the kitchen where he could be heard relaying the sergeant's orders to the cook to serve them a late dinner. The midday meal had finished a couple of hours ago but the long trestle tables were already laid for another. Salt and pepper shakers and vinegar cruets had been placed at intervals down the middle, and each individual place neatly set with cutlery and a tin cup.

Riding a horse by himself appeared to have stimulated Gabriel's appetite because the minute one of the kitchen orderlies brought out plates of steaming hot pork and beans with a slab of bread on the side, he attacked the one placed in front of him with great enthusiasm, eating almost as fast as the Kid.

"I've always heard terrible things about army cookin', but this ain't half bad," opined Curry as he shovelled in another heaped forkful.

Heyes nodded in agreement. "We're lucky there were some leftovers from dinner or we'd be going hungry 'til supper."

"Here he is, Ma" called an excited voice from the open doorway. 

Three children ran into the mess hall and stood facing the table. Kathleen Nesbit followed. She looked very different from the last time the Kid had seen her. Most noticeably, her clothes and hands were no longer covered in blood. She had changed into a clean, brown check cotton dress and her hair was no longer dangling in windswept strands around her face, but tidied into a smooth knot at the nape of her neck. 

"We've been looking all over for you, Mister Jones." 

"Anywhere there's food is a pretty good bet if it's Thaddeus you're searching for," Heyes grinned as he and the Kid stood to greet her. 

Kid Curry shot him a narrow sideways look.

"I'm his partner, by the way," continued Heyes. "Name's Joshua Smith."

Kathleen found it impossible not to return Heyes' infectious smile. "You're a very lucky man to have a partner like Mister Jones. He pulled a savage off my husband before he—"

"How is your husband?" interrupted the Kid before she could go into detail in front of Gabriel. 

"The doctor says he'll be in the hospital for a day or two yet. I can't thank you enough for what you did. You risked your life to help us." 

"Don't mention it, ma'am." Embarrassed, Curry rubbed at his nose, all the while hoping Heyes would fail to spot the signs of the blush that he could feel creeping across his cheeks. 

"And who might this young man be?" Kath was curious about the second head of blond curly hair at the table.

"Stand up and introduce yourself to the lady," Heyes encouraged, genially; hoping the boy would feel more inclined to speak to a woman.

Obediently the boy stood, but still he didn't speak. He just regarded Kath Nesbit with large blue eyes.

Curry filled in the blanks. "His name's Gabriel. Gabriel Halstead. We ain't related," he added, reading the question on her face.

"But he is travelling with you?"

"Yeah. We...uh...we kinda... found ...." 

"It's a long story, ma'am," said Heyes, coming to his partner's rescue. "But not one I'd recommend in front of, uh..." He gestured toward the children.

Grasping at any excuse to leave the room and give his face a chance to return to its normal colour before Heyes started teasing him, Curry said, "Begging your pardon, ma'am, I shouldha realized, y'all must be starving." He angled a thumb over his shoulder. "I'll head on back there and see what they can rustle up." 

"Are the army looking after you, alright?" queried Heyes, trying hard not to smirk at his cousin's speedy exit.

"Yes, thank you, Mister Smith. Myself and the children have been given a room in the Officers' Quarters. Where have you been accommodated?"

"Oh, we haven't been told where we'll be sleeping yet, ma'am, but pretty much anywhere will suit Thaddeus and me."

Heyes hazarded a guess that Kath Nesbit's accommodation in the Officers' Quarters was considerably more comfortable than anything they would be allocated. He and the Kid would no doubt have to share with over thirty other men.

The family had not long taken their seats when Thaddeus returned, carefully carrying a large wooden tray on which was balanced four plates of food, a platter piled with slices of bread, a pitcher of milk for the children, and a large enamel coffee pot so full that, with each step, the hot liquid within slopped out of the spout. 

Heyes poured each adult a fresh cup of coffee and, after swallowing a large mouthful of the strong, bitter brew, asked, "Where are you folks headed?" 

"Montana. My husband has purchased a ranch near Brandon." 

"Cattle or sheep?"

"Neither," Kath informed him. "Ted comes from a long line of horse breeders. It is our intention to breed horses and sell them to the military. We hear the grazing is good in Montana, even in winter."

The former outlaw leader shuddered inwardly. He viewed ranching of any kind to be exceptionally hard on the back and for that reason it was something both he and the Kid tried to avoid. 

"This ranch, you bought it unseen?" he asked, dubiously.

"We didn't have a choice. Ted had a lawyer look over the deeds and the deal appears to be legal and above board. Our farm in Wisconsin was very remote. It took him three whole days to ride into town to see the lawyer. Ted knew buying unseen was a risk, but so much easier than travelling all the way to Brandon!"

"And safer," interjected the Kid, "'specially if those Arikara keep on raiding."

"I am sure you and the army have scared them away from here, Mister Jones."

Heyes grinned as the gunman's heroics were brought up yet again, but his expression changed to one of cloaked concern at Kath Nesbit's next words. "Strangely enough," she said, "it wasn't Indians that we were worried about — it was outlaws."

Kid Curry's fork stopped short of his mouth. "Outlaws, ma'am?"

"Yes. So the marshal said. We were waiting our turn for the ferry at Red River just north of Riverdale when he comes riding down the line warning everyone to be on the lookout for some outlaws."

Despite being well into his second cup of coffee, Heyes' mouth was suddenly dry. Dammit! He was certain they had shaken that posse miles before they reached the river. 

"Did he happen to say who these outlaws were, ma'am?" 

"I didn't hear all of what he said, I was getting some water for the little ones from the barrel on the other side of the wagon, but I think it was Hannibal somebody-or-other, and a kid called Curry. Apparently they are very dangerous. Ted knew the names; he reads the newspapers — when we can get one. Have you gentlemen heard of them?" 

Heyes couldn't quite decide whether he should be irked or pleased that Kath did not know the names of the two most successful outlaws in the history of the West. He frowned thoughtfully, anyway.

"They run with a bunch down in Wyoming, if I remember right," he said. Then, trying to further play down their notoriety he turned to his partner. "Or, maybe I'm thinking of somebody else. What do you think, Thaddeus?" 

"Could be. But, Wyoming is a long, long way from here." 

"Sounds like you don't have any cause to worry, ma'am," Heyes reassured her.

"The marshal sounded sure..."

"I've finished, Ma," interrupted Timothy, noisily dropping his fork onto the tin plate. "Can I go look at the horses now?" 

Heyes sent the boy an unspoken word of thanks for changing the subject.

"Me too!"

"And me!" 

Kath regarded her two small daughters. "I promised your father we'd go and see him again this afternoon — if he's awake. I'll take you to see the horses after that. You're much too little to go wandering around on your own. Timothy, why don't you take Gabriel along? If that's alright with you?" She glanced enquiringly at the two men.

"You wanna go?" the Kid asked. 

Gabriel nodded enthusiastically. 

"Alright, but make sure and stay outta the corral. And don't go gettin' in anybody's way, y' hear. It ain't like a regular livery."

Heyes and Curry grinned watching Gabriel almost fall off the bench in his hurry to catch up with Timothy as he sprinted out of the door. Their smiles quickly fading when Kath sent her daughters to sit on the steps, out of earshot, so that she could hear Gabriel's story.


	8. Chapter 8

Standing at the door to the mess hall Hannibal Heyes adjusted his hat in order to counter the bright afternoon sunshine. Once shaded, his eyes followed Kath Nesbit and her girls as they hurried toward the hospital and a frown formed on his brow. It now appeared that finding Gabriel a home was not their only problem. There was an even more pressing matter which needed their immediate attention.

Striding purposefully onto the parade ground he moved at such an unexpected burst of speed that Curry had to jog to catch up. 

"Where you goin' in such a hurry?" 

"To find Gabe. We're getting out of here." Heyes' shaded eyes darted uneasily as he maintained his pace. "If that marshal decides to come a-calling we're sitting ducks." 

"We only just got here! Anyway, he won't look for us somewhere like this."

"Not look, maybe, but it won't stop him making enquiries."

"But, if we up and leave now won't that appear suspicious?"

Without breaking stride, Heyes tipped his hat and smiled blandly in reply to a greeting from a familiar trooper. His face then returned to a scowl.

"Kid, you saw the size of those gates, didn't you?.

"Uh-huh."

"If the bar's across, how long do you figure it takes to open them?"

"You timed it?" 

"Sure did. It's seven seconds. Those seven seconds could be the difference between us getting away free and clear, or taking a bullet in the back." 

"Aaww, we can give it a couple a days, can't we?"

Heyes' previously held belief that he could tell exactly what his partner was thinking had been sorely tested of late. If they came to an agreement, could he trust the Kid not to change their plans again — one more day here, another two more there, a week perhaps? 

"Don't tell me you're still set on killing everyone in that hunting party, Kid? It won't bring your folks back, you know. It won't change what happened in Kansas," he blurted out, not taking the time to consider his choice of words.

A dark shadow crossed Curry's face; the slaughter of his family had always been a heavy burden for him to bear. He seized a handful of the navy blue shirt, forcing his partner to stop. 

"Ain't nothin' gonna change what happened in Kansas," he replied stonily, his eyes beginning to turn from cornflower blue to the steel grey that Heyes knew meant trouble. 

Realizing how thoughtless his words had been Heyes winced. "What I said just then..." He pushed his hat back, making sure to look the Kid straight in the eye so the man could see he was sincere. "I'm sorry, Jed. I shouldn't have said that. I know you've never been one for killing, unless you don't have a choice."

Curry released his grip and stared at the dirt at his feet. When he looked up, much to Heyes' relief, his eyes had softened. "I just figured being here might be fun for Gabriel, is all. I don’t remember anyone doin’ something nice for us. They just dumped us in the Home. We might’ve felt different about things if they had. Not felt the world owed us, y’ know."

Hannibal Heyes took a deep breath, held it for a couple of seconds and let it go with a protracted sigh. Damn. His cousin could be so irritatingly perceptive at times.

"Okay," he relented, holding up the exact number of fingers to emphasize the terms. "Two days. Three at the most. And then we go."

Upon reaching the large corral they stood back for a while and observed Gabriel and Timothy hanging over the railings, watching the horses. As the boys balanced on the lower rail it was easy to see that Timothy was a good few inches taller than Gabriel, just as Heyes had been over the Kid at the same age. The older boy was also as dark as Gabriel was fair.

Now, both Heyes and Curry happened to consider themselves to be pretty good judges of horseflesh but were impressed at how knowledgeable Timothy was when it came to all things equine. The boy chattered on, eager to share his knowledge with his new friend, and more than made up for Gabriel's silence. He quickly pointed out which animals had the best conformation, how they moved, how they held their heads and the body length in relation to that of their legs. He could even spot, among all the moving legs, whether any were showing signs of lameness. 

What remained of the afternoon passed quickly until a bugle sounded and troopers came running from all directions to catch and lead their horses into the stable where they were to be brushed, fed and watered before sundown. The two young boys peered around the doorway of the stable block to watch.

Some while later there was another bugle call.

"These doggone bugles are killin' me," grumbled Curry, with a shake of his head.

"Probably supper time," said Heyes. "C'mon boys," he called, "You don't want to miss supper."

In Kid Curry's opinion it wouldn't have mattered very much at all if they _had_ missed supper, after it turned out to be a disappointing handful of bread washed down with a cup of strong, black coffee. He could only hope breakfast would be an improvement. Their earlier meal had obviously raised his expectations of army victuals a little too high. 

It was following his scant repast that, with their saddle bags slung over their shoulders and Gabriel carrying their bedrolls, Heyes and the Kid followed the room orderly up the stairs between the mess hall and the day room to the large dormitory above, where most of the soldiers and cavalry troopers were beginning to settle for the evening. 

The orderly stopped, scratched his head, then pointed toward the far end of the room. 

"Them two. Right down the end."

"There's three of us," Curry reminded him.

"That's all we got. Two a yer'll have t' bunk t'gether."

Not wishing to make a fuss over free accommodation they threaded their way between two pot belly stoves and a couple of large tables to the small iron framed beds. Placed atop each slatted wooden base was a straw-filled mattress, a pillow in a coarse cotton sack, and two regulation army blankets. 

Heyes felt sorry for whoever might be allocated these particular bunks on a permanent basis. Situated nowhere near a window or either of the stoves, they would no doubt be stiflingly hot in summer and freezing cold in winter. 

Propping his rifle against the wall by a bed and dumping his saddlebags on the floor Heyes unrolled the thin mattress and slapped it hard. When nothing jumped or crawled out of it he gave a resigned shrug, "Guess it beats hard ground." 

"Not by much."

"Do you want to flip to see who Gabe bunks with?"

Casting his cousin a wary look Curry shook his head. "Ohhh no. If we flip for it, I'll somehow end up sleepin’ on the floor. Gabe can buddy up with me. That alright with you, kid?" he enquired of the boy.

Gabriel nodded. Even though he still hadn't uttered a word at least he was showing a lot more interest in his things, thought Curry. Important things, like food and sleep and horses.

While they straightened out their bunks and stowed their belongings in the corresponding footlockers, the former outlaws' eyes drifted around the room — a habit born out of necessity and one crucial to their survival — searching for familiar faces or anybody taking more of an interest in them than was desirable. Fortunately, they noticed neither.

One thing did hold Heyes' attention, however. A couple of soldiers were sitting at one of the old, pine tables in the middle of the room playing blackjack. 

"Whatcha lookin' at?" queried Curry, trying to follow his gaze.

"The possibility of a little poker," murmured Heyes with a sly grin. The way he saw it, if some of these fellas were still in possession of a little of their pay, there was a very good chance he could relieve them of it and build a decent stake to spend in Deadwood.

"Well, I'm tired and much too hungry to concentrate on cards," grumbled the Kid. "Think I'll hit the hay. C'mon Gabe, it's time you got some sleep too." 

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

It was still dark outside when the shrill call of a bugle sounded 'reveille'.

Roused abruptly from a deep slumber, Kid Curry uttered a salty curse followed by a testy "What now?" Then with a groan, both he and Heyes turned over, pulling their blankets over their heads in an attempt to block out the flurry of activity going on around them. They promptly fell back to sleep — so quickly in fact, that neither had noticed Gabriel slip silently from the Kid's bunk, get dressed, and follow the steady exodus of men down the stairs. 

It wasn't until he came to again that Curry became aware that the boy was gone. Worried, he sat up; then, having a good idea where he might find him he pulled on his pants and boots and made his way outside, leaving Heyes snoring loudly, his arms and legs akimbo on his solitary bunk. 

Several lamps lit the quiet, but busy stable block, not brightly, but enough for sleep-filled eyes to see what they were doing. Their horses had been allocated two vacant stalls near the doorway and it was here, in the stall with his sorrel, that Curry spotted Gabriel. He couldn't actually see much of the boy, only the short-bristled brush, grasped in a small hand at the top of his reach, moving rhythmically on the animal's back. 

Kid Curry leaned against the doorway, folded his arms across his chest and watched. The boy was concentrating so hard on what he was doing it was easy observe him unseen. It was not until he attempted to wipe the mare's eyes with a damp rag that she uncharacteristically began to toss her head about and Curry felt he should offer some assistance. 

Quietly strolling over he placed a steadying hand on her neck. "Hey, girl," he cajoled, softly. "No need to be like that. Gabe here's only trying to make you feel good." Then, without changing the level of voice he said, "Come round here, Gabe, and hand me that rag." Once he felt the animal relax Curry gently wiped around her eye. 

"There see, 's not so bad." He stroked the white blaze as he handed the rag back to Gabriel. "You try the other one," he said, grinning as he watched the boy wobble around on tiptoe to reach her eye.

Curry bent down and tugged at a fetlock. Inspecting her freshly oiled hoof he asked, "You like her, huh?"

"She's nice." 

The words were only a whisper, but he had definitely heard them. The gunman felt a sudden unexpected rush of emotion at hearing the boy finally speak, but figuring it would not be a good idea to make too big a deal out of it, he replied matter-of-factly, "Yeah, she is." 

Placing his hands on his hips he stepped back and admired Gabriel's handiwork. Even in the dim light the sorrel's coat shone like it had been polished. "You've done a mighty fine job here, son. Mighty fine."

Gabriel obviously took pleasure in the praise and fleetingly his eyes lost their haunted look.

"You done the buckskin yet?" 

When the blond head shook the Kid inclined his head expectantly, trying to prompt an answer, and the ploy worked. 

"No."

"We'd better get to it then." He pressed his finger tips to his bruised jaw. "The last thing we wanna do is make Joshua cranky."

They worked quickly. Then, while Gabriel stowed the grooming kit and spread clean straw over the floor of the two stalls, Kid Curry waited in line to take his turn at the well. He spied Heyes leaning against the wall of the mess hall and waved, receiving one in return. 

While he lowered the second bucket down to the fresh water below something began to gnaw at the pit of Curry's stomach and it wasn't only hunger. Why was his partner standing outside? Was it crowded in the mess hall? Too noisy, perhaps? Maybe he had a bad feeling about somebody and was trying to make himself scarce. Or, worse still, was breakfast so terrible that he couldn't stomach being near what they were passing off as food? Curry tried to put these thoughts out of his head, but by the time he and Gabriel arrived at the mess hall steps he was more than a little worried.

"Whatcha doing out here?" he enquired, warily. 

"Waiting for you. Why?"

"Was breakfast bad?" The Kid's expression grew pained. "Don't tell me it's like supper."

Heyes couldn't help but grin at his partner's concern. "Don't fret. It's fine, and there's plenty of it."

"That's a relief. Gabe's real hungry."

Heyes chuckled. "Gabe's real hungry, huh?"

"Yeah." Curry ruffled the blond curls. "You are, ain't ya?"

"Yessir."

The unexpected reply together with Kid's smug smile prompted Heyes to raise a surprised eyebrow. Like the Kid he let it pass without comment. Instead he said, “I'll see you two later. There's something I need to do this morning."

"Uh huh..." Curry studied his partner speculatively for a moment. Heyes was working on something, he was sure of it. There was a glint in his eye like the one he used to get when a bank job was beginning to come together in his head. However, not wishing to hear about it before breakfast he winked at Gabriel. 

"C'mon, kid. Let's go eat."


	9. Chapter 9

"I'll wait, thank you." 

"It's not customary to allow visitors to wait in private rooms." 

Having already informed the caller that Kath Nesbit and the three children were currently having breakfast in the Officers' Mess, the young, fresh-faced, white-gloved orderly had expected the man to say he would return later.

"I'm sure you can make an exception."

"Well, I don't think it would be proper.”

"I don't want to miss her, you see. It's most important." 

"I.. uh..." Not accustomed to such persistence from a civilian, the young orderly was not sure what else to suggest without risking being hauled up on a charge for being rude. "Maybe you could wait outside, uh...on-on the porch. It's very pleasant in the morning and the chairs are quite comfortable."

"I'll sit there," a slender finger pointed to a rocking chair and its owner flashed an encouraging smile. "And coffee will be fine, thank you."

"Coffee?"

"Yes. You were about to offer me some refreshment, weren't you?"

"Uh, yes-yes, of course."

Hannibal Heyes took his seat, stretched out his long legs and grinned at the back of the hastily retreating figure.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

The accommodation in the Officers' Quarters was exactly as Heyes had thought it would be; spacious, comfortable and befitting a married lady. Pleasant drapes hung at the windows; there was a large double bed together with canvas field cots for the children, and a chest of drawers atop which sat a white porcelain pitcher and basin. 

A round table, only large enough to hold a small tea tray, stood adjacent to a high-backed armchair which is where Kath Nesbit sat, a deep frown creasing her brow and her attractive dark eyes troubled. She had been more than a little surprised when the young soldier had advised that she had a visitor waiting for her outside on the porch, and had certainly not been prepared for the proposition he had just put before her.

"I don't know what to say, Mister Smith. You do understand that I can't give you an answer without consulting my husband first."

"Is he allowed visitors other than family, ma'am? Because I'd be more than willing to speak with him — give him the whole story. You see, we didn't tell you all the details of what happened to Gabriel's family. It doesn't seem too gentlemanly to describe what that little boy witnessed to a lady such as yourself, let alone expect you to retell it to someone else, even if that person is your husband."

"Well, I—"

"I could go see him tomorrow morning," Heyes pressed.

Certain that the ranch in Montana would be an ideal place for Gabriel to grow up, all Heyes needed to do was convince the Nesbits to take on another mouth to feed. It had been encouraging to see how eager Kath was to hear the boy's story yesterday, and while she appeared sympathetic to his plight Heyes was prepared for her to feel as if she already had her hands full with three young children of her own to care for. 

It wasn't at all like Heyes to doubt his ability to talk somebody into doing what he wanted or to 'assist' them in changing their mind, but it seemed that recently his so-called silver tongue hadn't been working too well — when it came to his partner, anyway. He hoped it would prove more effective on the Nesbits.

Once the seed of an idea had planted itself in his head Heyes had stared at the ceiling long into the night while he considered it and, having taken into account the financial aspect of feeding, clothing, and educating an extra child, he figured his best angle would be one that tugged at Kath's heart strings. 

"Gabriel is a real nice little boy, ma'am," he continued. "His folks raised him good, not that we knew them exactly, but I do know they were God-fearing people. We found a copy of the Good Book, a family Bible no less, 'cept those heathen savages had torn it to shreds. Just like they did with his young life. All that horror and tragedy...." Heyes stared down at his hands and shook his head sadly. After running a hand across his eyes he went on. 

"Thaddeus and me, we travel around a lot, picking up odd jobs where we can, and you have to agree that's no life for a kid his age. He needs a home, and a whole lot of love and understanding from somebody who knows how to be a parent. 

"The other day when we met young Timothy... well, it started us thinking. Having lost his own brothers it might be real nice for him to have a new brother to play with, to guide him even. They get on real well; in fact before I came over here, I think the cook had sent them off on a mission to round up some stray chickens. They both like horses and—"

Kath held up her hand stopping Heyes mid-flow. "I know they get on well together."

Heyes knelt down on one knee next to the chair, and boldly took her hand in his. When she didn't pull away he viewed it as a good sign.

"Ma'am, I have to tell you...." He paused again for effect, his expression grave as he played what he considered to be his trump card. "If we don't find that poor boy a regular home soon the only thing left for us to do will be to put him in an orphanage. Now, me and Thaddeus, we've had a whole lot of experience in that regard and... well, let's just say that kid's been through enough already without inflicting bad food and regular beatings on him too."

At the sorrowful look in Heyes' eyes Kath blinked back the tears that had begun to prickle her own. She smiled wanly. "Please rest assured, Mister Smith, I will talk with my husband."

"Thank you, ma'am. That's all we can ask," Heyes said sincerely as he stood, placed his hat on his head and tipped it respectfully. 

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Having spent the morning taking care of business, followed by a reasonable dinner of stewed beef and potatoes, Heyes passed the afternoon in something of a self-satisfied haze. It had not taken him long to find the most comfortable chair in the soldiers' Day Room and here he languished, his feet crossed at the ankles while he watched the familiar sight of the Kid disassembling their guns and rifles, spreading the parts over a table and meticulously cleaning and oiling every piece. Happy too that his partner was now a captive audience, and would no doubt be there for at least a couple of hours, Heyes took the opportunity to tell him about his conversation with Kath. 

Engrossed in his task Curry listened without comment until Heyes finally ran out of things to say except, "So? Whaddya think?"

"Sounds like it don't matter what I think, you've already gone ahead and set that plan of yours in motion," grouched the Kid.

"In case you've forgotten we're a little pressed for time here!" 

"Why don't you say it, admit why you really did it? You don't wanna risk me changing anythin'."

Heyes rolled his eyes then reluctantly admitted, "Yeah, well, that too." 

Curry knew from experience how calculating Heyes could be, especially when it came to getting even, but this was not one of those times. He wouldn't use Gabriel to get back at him; he was just doing what he thought was right for the boy. A family life was what he needed, certainly not one tagging along with a couple of wanted men. He did have to admit that the thought of teaching the kid to ride or handle a rifle good enough to hunt game was very appealing, and he was sure Heyes would relish showing him card tricks or teaching him how to play poker, but he also knew none of this was possible right now. Not until the Governor of Wyoming signed those long-awaited amnesty papers could either of them consider having a family of their own.

"Do you figure they'll go for it?" 

"Of course they will." Heyes looked affronted that he even thought to ask. 

Smiling at Hannibal Heyes' undying faith in his ability to persuade, the Kid confirmed, "Then I think it's a good plan."

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

Heavy eyelids flickered as Ted Nesbit began to claw his way back into consciousness. Before he reached the surface he took a deep breath in through his nose. There was that smell again. A smell that made him feel a little nauseous — carbolic acid and chloroform. It also told him that he was still in hospital. 

Memories, if that was indeed what they were, were haunting his dreams. Indians, the wagon, Kath's terrified face, a stranger, more Indians, a fight, pain then....darkness.

It was a bit of a struggle but he eventually brought his eyes into enough focus to detect the rays of bright sunshine sneaking in under the dark green shade on the window. Was it morning again already? He couldn't really tell. Whatever the doctor was giving him certainly dulled the throbbing pain in his arm but it also made him very sleepy, and apparently it was now making him hallucinate. He had expected to see Kath sitting by his bedside, catching up on some mending or writing a letter to her sister, but instead he saw a man, his clothes somewhat dusty, and his dark brown hair a little on the long side for respectable society. As far as he could recall he wasn't the doctor, or one of the orderlies.

Responding to the rustle of bed sheets Hannibal Heyes put down the medical journal he had purloined from the surgeon's office while he waited for the patient to become fully conscious. He knew Ted Nesbit was probably struggling with the soporific effect of laudanum; the amount of blood staining the heavy bandages on his arm a sure sign that the man would be in too much pain to sleep without it. 

Yesterday morning he had come to realise that Ted wasn't the only person injured from their encounter with the Indians. When he and the Kid had gone down to the wash room to shave, he had been shocked to see how many livid bruises the Kid had sustained on his torso from the fight in the wagon. Fleetingly, Heyes had felt a pang of guilt for punching his cousin and adding to the collection. Their number made the gash beside his eye seem paltry by comparison, even though it did sting like the devil every time he put his hat on. 

Resting his elbows on his knees Heyes leaned forward and smiled. "Mornin', Mister Nesbit. How are you feeling today?"

Ted tried to speak but his mouth was dry and instead he began to cough.

Heyes reached for the glass of water on the night stand. "Let me give you a hand there," he offered, putting his arm behind the man's head and holding the glass to his lips so he could take a few mouthfuls.

"Are you Smith?"

Heyes gently lowered the man's head. "Yep, that's me. You're already acquainted with my partner, Thaddeus Jones. He's the fella who rode in and helped you folks when that hunting party attacked your wagon." Heyes kept his tone light but the Kid's foolhardy actions still rankled.

"Yes, and I must thank him." Beginning to feel a little more awake, Ted raised his head from the pillow on his own this time and glanced around the room. "Is he here?"

"He'll be along presently," Heyes assured him. He had the Kid and Gabe's arrival time planned, exactly as he would have done if they had been taking part in a hold-up.

"I guess your wife told you about the boy we have with us?" 

"She did."

"And she mentioned his circumstances, the reason why he needs a home?"

"His family were killed by Indians."

"Yes, sir. Murdered. Every single one." Heyes nodded sadly. "Now, I have to be honest with you Mister Nesbit, the story we told your wife was a sorta cut down version. We figured the details would be too upsetting for a lady's delicate constitution, but I feel I oughta tell you exactly what we saw inside that farmhouse so you can understand just why it is that young fella needs a new family. A family like yours. 

"Gabriel had hid himself up in the rafters. They couldn't see him, but he saw it all..."

Whilst Heyes appreciated Ted Nesbit's weakened condition he didn't want to give the man time to object, so he quickly went on to relate what had befallen Gabriel's parents and siblings, based on what he and the Kid had seen that day. Normally, he would have no qualms about embellishing a story in order to make more of an impact on the listener, but in this instance he knew no additional detail was required. The facts were horrific enough by themselves. 

"The sight of that poor women and her children...," he concluded with a sigh, "...well, I hope never to see the like again, no siree."

Ted Nesbit stared solemnly at the foot of his bed. 

Hoping he hadn't overplayed his hand Heyes took the opportunity to step over to one of the hospital windows and, on the pretext of adjusting the blind, checked that the Kid and Gabriel were waiting outside as instructed. After delivering the agreed signal Heyes resumed his seat. 

"I hope you can see why we'd be real grateful if you could think on it, Mister Nesbit," he pressed. "Thaddeus and me are already overdue for a job in a mine near Deadwood, but we can't take him to a place like that, full of drunken, whorin', profanity spoutin' miners. It wouldn't be right for a boy like him. You'll see what I mean when you meet him. Oh, here they are!"

Ted looked up from his quiet contemplation as Kid Curry quietly closed the door and steered Gabriel over to the bed. Heyes stood to greet this partner, and seeing them side-by-side Ted's eyes narrowed, flitting back and forth between them. Still a little disorientated he put the vague sense of familiarity down to the residual effect of the laudanum and not the recent descriptions of two outlaws he had heard. He raised his bandage-free left arm and Curry awkwardly shook the offered hand.

"Mister Jones, I don't know how to thank you," Ted gushed. "Without your help we would never have escaped those savages. Kath and I will always be grateful for what you did."

Curry smiled, modestly. "Looks like the doc's patched you up real good."

"It's gonna take a while to heal. Those cuts were almost to the bone. Apparently I lost a lot of blood, but he says if there is still no sign of a fever by tomorrow morning, I can get out of this bed. Like yourselves, we need to be on our way. We're expected in Brandon before the end of the month. I don't want the seller to think we have pulled out of our deal."

Keen to get back to the matter in hand Heyes cleared his throat. "Uh, while we're on the subject of your ranch, this young fella is real good with horses, aren't you Gabriel?"

The Kid placed his hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed gently. "Gabe, say 'howdy' to Mister Nesbit."

Not wanting to force the traumatized boy to speak if he didn't want to, Ted smiled at him. "It's nice to meet you, Gabriel. Timothy's told me all about the adventures you've both been having. You like horses too, huh?"

The blond head nodded.

Seeing the two men's disappointed faces Ted said, "He'll find his voice again, I'm sure. It'll take time for him to heal inside. You want to tell me how old you are, son?" he encouraged, gently.

Curry urged softly. "You can say it, I know ya can." 

"S-seven."

"Uh-huh. A year younger than our Timothy," Ted nodded sagely as he considered this. Then he addressed Gabriel as confidentially as he could while laying in a hospital bed. "Now, you know he's already got two sisters which, between you and me, I don't think he's happy about, so I figure what he would _really_ like is a brother. Would you like to be Tim's brother, Gabriel?"

Gabriel didn't answer. He just stared up at Curry.

"I'm sure he would," said Heyes, confidently. "Wouldn't you say so, Thaddeus?"

Much to Heyes' chagrin the Kid didn't reply straight away but, in response to a hard, brown-eyed stare he eventually said, "Oh, sure. I had two brothers, both a whole lot older than me, but Ha—" Unused to talking about family he didn't really think what he was saying and only just managed to catch himself before he uttered Heyes' childhood name of Han. Hastily rectifying his mistake he ploughed on. "J-Joshua and me are cousins and we're almost the same age, so he became like another brother. We had a lot of fun y' know, runnin' in the fields, fishin' in the cree—"

"Yes, well," Heyes butted in sharply. What was it with the Kid? On the rare occasion when he spoke to anyone about his past, he just kept right on talking! He'd done it with Sister Julia, telling her all about running away from the School for Waywards, and he was doing it again now! "We don't want to be tiring this poor man any more today, him having lost so much blood an' all. We'll leave you to get some rest now, Mister Nesbit. C'mon, Thaddeus."

As they stepped from the cool adobe hospital block into the warm sunshine Heyes turned to the Kid with a puzzled, "What...?"

Curry's reply was a bemused shrug of his shoulders.


	10. Chapter 10

Hannibal Heyes considered the five other players seated at the table and tossed two more silver dollars into the pot. "Raise." His poker face was having to work extra hard tonight because what he really wanted to do was grin from ear to ear. These fellows obviously didn't get to take on a decent poker player like him very often — they played almost every hand they were dealt whether good or bad, drew to inside straights and didn't appear to know when to fold — so that over the past couple of evenings he had managed to accrue a pretty good-sized stake. If the desire to keep one jump ahead of the law wasn't quite so overwhelming he may have been tempted to stay another day, possibly even two, and make it even larger. 

As it happened they were all packed and ready to leave at first light because, to his satisfaction and huge delight, earlier that evening Kath Nesbit had sought them out with the welcome news that she and Ted had talked things over and it hadn't taken them long to decide to offer Gabriel a home. 

Curry folded his fifth hand in a row with a sour "I'm out" and turned his head back toward the door. 

"Everything alright, Thaddeus?" enquired Heyes.

It was about twenty minutes since Gabriel had got out of bed, pulled on his boots and quietly trotted downstairs. At first Curry had assumed that he had merely gone to the outhouse, but now he was starting to worry. Gabe had certainly appeared happy enough when, after supper, they had taken him aside and gently explained that he was going to have a new family. But now, a hundred possibilities, some good and some bad, were crowding into Curry's head; he had to find out where the boy had got to.

"Gabe's been gone a while. I think I'll go look for him."

He dragged his gaze back to the table. "Not having much luck here, anyhow," he added with a humourless smile as he gathered up his dwindling supply of coins.

Stopping to pull his shearling coat from a wooden peg by his bed Curry stepped lively down the stairs and out into the cool evening air; although the sky in the west was still tinged with vermillion it was already quite dark outside. A couple of kerosene lamps had been lit and hung on hooks outside the door. Gratefully Curry grabbed one and made his way around the side of the building to the outhouse. Upon finding each of the three latrines to be unoccupied he headed for the only other place he could think Gabriel might be.

With the lamp held aloft the Kid eased open the door to the stable block and immediately saw his sorrel looking over the stall doorway at him. The animal whickered a greeting. She was used to being disturbed, saddled, and even ridden flat-out at all hours of the day and night.

He stopped to stroke her velvety nose. "It's okay girl, we're not goin' anywhere tonight. I'm lookin' for your new friend. You seen him?" 

While the horse attempted to nibble affectionately at his coat collar the Kid eased her back, raised the lantern and leaned over the stall door so he could examine all four corners. _Dammit!_ There was no sign of the boy. _Now what? _He didn't really want to disturb all the other horses and was considering trying the Officers' Quarters on the off-chance he had gone to see Timothy, when his sorrel nudged him, propelling him forward a step or two.__

____

____

He pointed down the row of stalls. "This way? Sheesh, givin' away your new friend's hiding place, huh?"

Careful not to extinguish the flame Curry turned down the lamp's wick as far as it would go and kept it down by his side as he walked slowly down the row loudly whispering Gabriel's name. He was more than half way down when he heard a sniff. It came from the very last stall which was currently being used to store bales of hay.

"Gabe?" 

Watery blue eyes glistened in the lamplight and Gabriel turned his face away as he huddled closer to one of the bales.

"You must be cold." Curry set the lamp on the floor well away from the hay and quickly took off his heavy coat, placing it around the boy's shoulders as he sat down beside him.

"What are you doing out here?"

When the boy just stared back, he sighed. "You're gonna have to talk to me. I can't help if you don't tell me what's wrong."

A hand found its way out through the folds of the coat. In it was a crumpled piece of paper.

Carefully drawing the lamp a little closer Curry recognized the Bible page Heyes had given Gabriel back at the farmhouse. "You've been lookin' at this, huh?" 

The boy’s eyes were red rimmed and his face wet from crying.

"Do you know your A,B,C?" 

"Some."

Relieved to have a spoken reply at last Curry said, "I bet your mama was teachin' you." He pulled the boy close. "Show me which letters you know."

Gabriel flattened out the piece of paper and pointed to the first letter of the first name on the list. "A," he said.

"Right. That's the first letter of your pa's name right there, Amos." Curry ran his finger down the page. "There it is again. A for Abigail. Show me another."

A finger touched the E. 

"That's E for Eve, your older sister. What about this one?" Curry pointed to the name Lydia.

When Gabriel shook his head the Kid assumed he hadn't got as far as learning the letter L yet.

"That's an L and it's the first letter of your mama's name."

"I got a new mama now." 

Feeling his normally unshakeable gunman's façade beginning to falter Curry looked away. His throat constricted and, momentarily unable to speak he wondered, not for the first time and certainly not for the last, how they may have turned out if he and Heyes had been adopted by new families.

"Yes, I suppose you have," he eventually managed to croak out, "and she's gonna teach you more of your letters 'til one day you can read all these names for yourself. You're gonna have new pa too. He will teach you all about breedin' horses and breakin' them. You're gonna have a real good life."

"She's... she's different."

"Yeah, she is, but you're never gonna forget the mama whose name is on this piece of paper. I bet if you close your eyes right now you can see her." 

The boy closed his eyes and nodded. Curry hoped what he was picturing was not his mother’s blood soaked body, but a memory of happier times.

"Good. You can do that any time you want." 

Gabe opened his eyes. "I can?"

Curry grinned. "Sure you can. Nobody's gonna stop ya." He took a deep breath while he chose his next words carefully. "Now, I have to tell you somethin'. There'll be a time — when you're all grown up — when you won't be able to picture her real clear, not like you can today. I can't picture my mama too well any more, but that's okay," He pulled Gabriel's hand out from the coat and placed it next to the leather ties on his shirt front. "Feel that? That's my heart. Well, that's where my mama is. And here..."Curry tapped Gabriel's chest. "...is where your mama will always be too. Understand?"

Gabriel stared intently at the treasured piece of paper "Can you come with me? To Montana?" 

"'Fraid not, kid. Joshua and me have got some business with a real important man in Wyoming." Seeing the boy's chin begin to tremble, Curry added, "We’ll come visit. We'll even write you. So you better make sure and learn those letters real fast." 

"Yessir," whispered Gabriel, his tear-stained face the epitome of serious at the man's change in tone. Those last words may have sounded stern, but when Gabriel raised his eyes, the Kid's warm smile told a very different story.

"Well now, we'd best be gettin' some shut-eye," he said, standing and picking up the lamp. "I've got a long ride tomorrow and you... well, you've got a whole new family to get to know."

They climbed the dormitory stairs to the sound of a familiar laugh accompanied by the chink of coins. Although their departure meant saying goodbye to Gabriel the Kid couldn't help but be a little relieved that they were moving on from Fort Russell. 

Back in Devil's Hole, playing poker with Wheat and the boys had been a regular pastime and even though the gang didn't enjoy the fact that Hannibal Heyes won most of the money on the table, there was always the guarantee of another job which would, once again, fill their pockets with cash. There was also the small luxury that, as leaders, they could walk across the small clearing to their own cabin where they could sleep easy in their beds, leaving the men back in the bunkhouse to grumble amongst themselves. The Kid was certain that if they stayed here at the fort much longer, Heyes would not be able to stop himself from cleaning out these soldiers, and if there was one thing he didn't fancy doing it was sleeping in a room full of disgruntled losers. Worse still, if it should be decided that his partner was a cheat, he would most likely be thrown into the guardhouse until they arranged an impromptu firing squad.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

The following morning the stable block was a little busier than usual. Along with Kid Curry, ably assisted by a downcast Gabriel, several members of the troop they had ridden with the other day, including Lieutenant Glover, were also getting their horses ready to depart. Their task this time was not to neutralize renegade Indians, it was to escort two wagons to a supply depot near the South Dakota border and, once loaded with provisions, see them safely back to the fort. Now, while Heyes and Curry had not said as much, they had been a little relieved when the lieutenant had invited them to ride along.

Hannibal Heyes, on the other hand, was over at the Officers' Quarters conveying their goodbyes to Ted, Kath, and the children. It was also his plan to leave them a considerable proportion of his poker winnings from the night before. He hoped they would accept it. The last thing he wanted was for the Nesbits to struggle with an extra mouth to feed while they settled into a new home and established their business.

As he checked the latigos holding the bedroll behind his saddle Curry caught sight of Heyes, together with Kath, hurrying across the parade ground toward them. 

"Looks like we're all set," he confirmed to his partner. Then, nudging him with his elbow he angled his head toward Gabriel who stood quietly stroking the sorrel's neck, and murmured. "Somebody ain't too happy about us leaving."

Wondering whether the Kid included himself in that statement Heyes sidled in-between the horses and ran his hand down the buckskin's freshly brushed flank. 

"Well, I don't think he's ever looked this good. You've done a fine job here, Gabe. Mighty fine. You're gonna be right at home on a ranch. And you don't need to be scared about getting there neither, 'cause when your new pa's all healed up, the Major has promised me he will send an escort with the wagon, all the way to the border.

"They’re all real excited about you being part of the family too," Heyes continued as cheerily as he could after noticing that the boy's blue eyes were beginning to sparkle again with tears. "I hear Timothy's been making plans. Big plans. About all the things you two are gonna do when you get to Montana. He kept his ma awake half the night yakkin' about them."

"Sounds a lot like somebody else I know," remarked Curry wryly as he strode around his horse to crouch down beside Heyes. "You be sure and be good, now," he told the boy, earnestly. "These are real nice folks and I don't want to get word you've been disrespectin' them, y' hear."

Gabriel nodded solemnly and the former outlaws watched a large teardrop shake loose and roll down his cheek. "Thank you..." he whispered, "...for... for everything."

Quickly shaking off the heavy feeling in his chest Heyes playfully chucked him under the chin. "See ya, kid," he said with a wink before grabbing his reins and swinging himself up into his saddle. 

Soon a bugle sounded and the troop formed up. Everybody was ready to leave except for one person. 

"Time to go, Thaddeus," urged Heyes who had been silently watching the Kid hug Gabriel one more time.

With a greater reluctance than he had expected to feel Kid Curry pulled himself free of the boy's grasp and mounted up. 

"Good luck to you, ma'am, and thank you." Curry politely tipped his hat to Kath. He then directed his gaze at Gabriel. "Remember everything I told ya, now."

The boy nodded vigorously.

"Forward ho!" called Lieutenant Glover, and the detail advanced toward the opening gate.

ooooo-OOO-ooooo

For what must have been the tenth time in as many minutes, Kid Curry glanced back over his shoulder toward Fort Russell. A solitary figure still stood in the otherwise empty space that was the open gate, his arm raised. 

"Gabe's still standin' there, Heyes."

From their position, a little way beyond the rear of the troop, both men turned in their saddles and waved — again.

The next time Curry looked back the gates were closed.

"He's gone now, hasn't he?" surmised Heyes, correctly reading the minute slump of his cousin's shoulders.

"You're _sure_ he'll be okay?"

"He'll be fine, Kid." Heyes reassured him for the umpteenth time that morning. "Ted and Kath are good people. They'll look after him."

"Yeah, you're right. It's just that he's such a great kid; I hate to think of him being scarred for life by what happened. Heyes, what if he ends up like us?

"Like us?"

"Outlaws," Curry replied in a confidential whisper.

"Nah, that won't happen." 

"I sure hope you're right."

This time Heyes' reply was much more emphatic. "Kid, I _know_ I am. Gabriel's got a second chance. That's something we never had when we were kids. It's taken us a long time, not to mention a whole lot of mistakes, to get our second chance. Anyhow, since we've been going straight, we're doing alright. Well, mostly," he added, vaguely. 

They rode side by side in silence for a short time, both lost in faded memories of family, dreams of what might have been, and their hopes for the future.

At last, Heyes leaned forward on his saddle horn. "Y' know, Kid, you, me and Gabriel, we'll always have one thing in common."

"We're all orphans?"

"Something much more important." 

"And what's that?"

"We're all survivors."


End file.
